A Centon Advent Calendar
by subseeker
Summary: The title says it, it's a advent calendar about John and Randy. Starting on the 1st December, a new part will be posted every day. The events are not necessarily in the right chronological order and the length of the chapter can range from 100 to who knows how many words :) It's slashy.
1. Announcement

Have yourself a merry little Christmas… *sings along*

Okay, first of all, I know you expected a first chapter here and it's already waiting to be posted, but at this point I want to start with an announcement.

*announcement starts…*clears throat*

Yay! 30 days left until Santa makes his visits and I'm already totally Christmassy. The decoration waits to be placed, my favorite Christmas songs are playing in the background and I'm delighting my neighbors with my angelic voice. The old lady next door even gave me the first Christmas cookies yesterday and I pinched a bit of gingerbread today. I am so very Christmassy that I needed to post this.

And because I love Christmas (because it's so cozy under the Christmas tree and everything smells and tastes so very wonderful ;-) and advent calendars, I thought I'm gonna give you guys a self-made one.

Starting on the 1st December I'm gonna post a nice little part every day and it's gonna be about John and Randy. Bits and pieces about their relationship, from being friends to being more. What else.

The last part is gonna be up on December 24th.

Well, again, I'm sorry that this was just an announcement, but it's only 8 days for the first part to come. I hope you'll come back then ;-)

Wish ya all a nice weekend! *off for some more gingerbread*


	2. 1st advent

Can you hear it? The faint ringing of a bell? The tune of your favorite Christmas song?

And can you smell it? The scent of Christmas…?

The countdown to Christmas has started today and I'm so happy that you've come here to open the first door.

This calendar is supposed to smell like punch and gingerbread, taste like Christmas cookies and sound like a wonderful Christmas song.

I hope you'll enjoy what this calendar holds in store for you every day now until Christmas Eve. Let me know if you do, leave a few words and make me a happy girl ;3

* * *

**1****st**** advent**

… **like always …**

He has always cared for Randy. Ever since the first day he had met him, even when Randy had been that arrogant, self-centered dick he had been back then. He has always cared…

His hands tremble as he makes the way to the trainer's room in quick strides. Randy has gotten hurt during their segment together as Ryback came out to attack them, just like he had been supposed to. Ryback took on him first, then on Randy. Just as he had been supposed to do. And while John had been lying on the canvas, Ryback slammed Randy through a table. The slam though… something went wrong. He has seen it in Randy's face that very second. And while John's and Ryback's segment went on for five more minutes, Randy limped out of the arena.

He hates it. He fucking _hates_ it, to know that Randy is hurt and not be able to be at his side from the first second on.

The door to the trainer's room opens under his hand, revealing Randy, sitting hunched forward on a bench. The handsome face is contorted with pain, the stormy-blue hued eyes screwed shut. Broken ribs, John hears someone say. It's obvious. He can see it. A huge bruise already forms on the tan skin and the sight causes him to wince at a sudden ache in his chest.

Stepping up to the younger man John whispers his name and it does the magic, making Randy look up to him. There is relief in the well-known eyes, John notices. He knows Randy has been waiting for him to come because it's was they always do when one of them has gotten hurt.

John's match is supposed to start in about five minutes, right after the segment with Hunter at the microphone but he knows he has a little more time, because Hunter knows what has happened and he knows where John is now and so the other man is going to drag this segment a minute or two longer than planned.

No one cares when John takes another step closer to Randy, coming to stand between his legs, or as he puts a gentle hand on the bruised side. They have always shared a very close and special relationship and everyone knows it. Randy leans forward very carefully, sighing quietly as he rests his head against John's chest and John's other hand comes up immediately to cradle it. The older man's name is a whisper on Randy's lips, just loud enough for John to hear it. There is an equally quiet _thanks_ that follows and a tug at his shirt as Randy buries his fingers in it and somehow this gesture, this thanks tugs at John's heart. Like it always does.

Randy's breathing is shallow under his touch and there is a quiet and breathy moan against his shoulder. John splays his fingers over the forming bruise and his other hand smoothes over the short hair, before is comes to rest on Randy's nape.

He feels Randy relax against him as if the pain lessens, drains off him. As if John's presence, his touch soothes it and in a small, hidden corner of John's mind he admits that he likes the idea. And maybe he does because it's like that every time Randy comes to him when he's hurt.

It never feels like that when Nikki comes to him and maybe it should make him think. It doesn't though.

The door opens after a short while and someone calls for him. Randy moves under his touch, pulls back because it's time for John to go. Their gazes lock and there is something so breathtakingly soft lying in Randy's eyes that he actually forgets how to breathe for a brief moment.

John steps back then, his hand leaving the warm skin and suddenly his palm feels oddly cold. It is the very moment he sees the pain return to those stormy-blue eyes, along with something that looks like regret.

"I'm gonna come back right after the match," John murmurs and Randy gives him a tiny smile.

Randy looks exhausted and John doesn't want to go. When he turns and leaves there is another tug at his shirt as it slips out of reluctant fingers. He feels the regret he has seen in his friend's eyes deep within himself, getting stronger bit by bit with every step he takes and it's one of those moments when he's sure that losing a girlfriend, no matter how much he loves her, could never hurt as much as losing this man.

By the time he enters the arena his mind is completely focused on the match. But his heart… it is still with Randy.

Because somehow it always is.


	3. 2nd advent

*It's Christmas time all over the World... It's Christmas here at home...*

So, after searching for the second door on the calendar we found it and before you guys go ahead and have fun with what is hidden behind it, I wanna thank you so much for the interest and the reviews!

PS: The events you'll get to read door after door are more or less emotional or romatic, so not every chapter will cause heartache. And the chapters are not necessarily in the right chronological order ;3

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**2****nd**** advent**

… **musing …**

John leans forward on his folding chair as Randy's music hits, bracing his elbows on his knees while his eyes fix on the TV. The hall explodes in cheers and boos and the camera stops its trail over the audience, pans to focus on Randy as he walks down the ramp. It's almost ridiculous, John thinks. Ridiculous that this has become kind of a ritual for him, to sit in front of a TV backstage to watch Randy's matches like he sees him for the first time ever. But he does. He never gets tired of seeing this man doing his job.

He tilts his head a bit as he thinks that God and Randy's parents have created a masterpiece as they made this man. Randy is gifted. It is what John thinks while his eyes follow the movements on the screen. It is what he has thought ever since the first time he has seen Randy in the ring. This body, the cat-like grace, his stunning talent.

Those voices that say it was the help of Randy's dad that cleared him the way have no fucking idea what they talk about. And maybe it is jealousy that makes them say it. It is so obvious that Randy is one of the greatest Superstars the Company has ever had, that only a blind can't see it. It is so goddamn obvious that it almost hurts. And he has worked his ass off to be where he is now. He had to work harder for all this than all the others and he still has to. Yes, his dad is a legend but the burden this fact brings along, the expectations, are crushing. John knows it. He has been there to witness it, every day, every week and month. For years.

Totally lost in what he sees on the screen, John faintly notices R-Truth walk by, hears the man say something about him watching his better half. A half-smile and a nod is John's only answer. Their co-workers have started to say that a while ago, every time one of them is watching the other. There is a pat on his shoulder and another small laughter, another comment but John does not hear it.

His mind drifts back to their time in the OVW, when he had been the new kid in town and there was Randy, Cowboy Bob Orton's son. The son of a legend. It was what all their co-workers back then said. The boy is the son of a legend and his dad is his way to the top. It didn't help his popularity among their co-workers back then and it surely didn't help that Randy was much too arrogant, self-centred and big-mouthed because he knew that he is _good_. Like, really, _really_ good.

… _this is Cowboy Bob Orton's son…_

… _this guy only spells trouble…_

… _he has only come so far because his dad is a legend…_

… _arrogant, self-centred, big-mouthed…_

… _stay away from him…_

The half-smile R-Truth's comment has left on his lips grows and while a part of him is totally absorbed in following the events on the screen, the other part delves into old memories…

"_Hi, Cowboy Bob Orton's son."_

_His greeting bounces off the tanned back of the taller man. For a moment nothing happens before said man turns around to him and there is cautious disbelief plastered to his face, while the grey eyes aren't hard and cold as usually, but widened slightly and a hint of bafflement lies in them._

"_What?" the young man asks slowly._

_John grins and extends a hand, replying: "Cowboy Bob Orton's son. That's how everybody calls you, so it must be your name."_

_The moment of being caught off-guard is swept away in the same moment the other man blinks. Grey eyes narrow to a glare, bafflement becomes irritation and John's grin becomes even wider. He knows what is about to come._

"_Fuck off, asshole."_

"_Uhm, well, my name's John, not asshole, you know?"_

_And for a moment the bafflement is back as a fleeting expression and the other man tilts his head while slender brows furrow. His gaze drops to John's still extended hand and snaps back up._

"_Have you eaten a clown for breakfast?"_

_The question is not quite hissed, not quite growled and not really unfriendly, more totally… confounded. And although everyone has told John to stay away from Cowboy Bob Orton's son, there is something about the young man that draws him in, makes him curious who he really is. And he has eyes. Maybe he is the son of a legend, but he is also goddamn amazing and fucking talented. _

_Yep, everyone has told him to stay away from the boy who only spells trouble. But he is John Cena and he has never been put off by trouble._

"_Yep and if I had known that you've got such a bad mood, I would have kept a bit for you."_

_Silence. The other man straightens up and looks like he is about to walk away without another word. It isn't an option for John to let that happen and so he lifts his hand a bit, turns it palm up. A peace-offering to a man he has never changed a word with before._

_In addition he replaces the grin by a serious but friendly expression as he says quietly: "No really, my name's John and I guess you have a first name, too?"_

_The young man gazes to his left and to his right, as if he expects someone to play a prank on him or to find a camera there. He glances back to John then, stares at him for a few seconds, before he gingerly shakes hands with him._

"_Randy," he says and undisguised wariness is lacing into his voice._

_It's the moment John feels he has won because it is what he has wanted, to make Randy talk to him and shake hands with him._

"_I know," John replies quietly, because he has known it all along._

_He gives Randy a small smile while his fingers keep the other man's hand in a firm hold. With a puffed chuckle Randy dips his head forward, wipes his free hand down his face. He looks up again. Grey meets blue. It's a hesitant smile John finds on Randy's face, but it's enough for now_

_For John it's enough to know that this man is worth the trouble he spells…_

There is a shadow of the smile he has given Randy back then on his face as he comes back to the here and now and he's just in time. On the screen Randy ducks away from a clothesline, turns and catches his opponent with his snap scoop power slam.

_Fast,_ John thinks and his smile grows again. _He's so damn fast._

Strong, fast, agile. Words which are matching the younger man. Graceful. The way it feels when this picture-perfect body moves against his own, the expression those eyes have when Randy is in the ring… it always sends a shiver down his spine. Being in the ring with this man feels a bit like dancing. At least it feels like this to John. And he loves that kind of dance with Randy…

It's only a few moments later that the RKO hits. The pin follows. And Randy wins. The smile still lingers on John's face as he gets up from his chair and he watches a second or two longer, watches as Randy climbs onto the ropes and pulls his Adonis pose. Then he leaves to wait for Randy at the entrance.

Because he always does.

When Randy comes backstage shortly after, his eyes search for John and immediately lock with his when they find him, while his feet carry him over. John holds his hand out towards him, turning it palm up as Randy steps up to him.

"Hey, Cowboy Bob Orton's son. You did a great job out there," he says quietly.

The smile Randy answers with is tender and it wraps around John's heart like a silken touch. He has lost count of how often he has thought that Randy is worth _any_ trouble. Fingers close gently around his and his heart jumps and trips for some unknown reason as a strong arm pulls him into a hug that lasts not long enough, yet lasts as long as it can before it is time for John to go out there.

It's the feeling of those fingers closed around his hand and that arm around his shoulder… and the warmth against his chest… that goes down to the ring with him. And while he is in the ring, there is one thought that stays with him while said feelings slowly fade.

This very moment Randy watches him and he'll wait for him when he comes back.

Because he always does.


	4. 3rd advent

The third door is dedicated to my beloved **BrightAsNight**.

_Thanks for being who you are, Hun!_

And… yeah, you're right. Somehow the 2nd advent turned out to be longer than 1000 words. And it happened again. I can't help it… my writing tends to have a life of his own ;)

And thank you all for the amazing feedback to my little Centon Advent Calendar! I'm so happy you like it and believe me, your reviews are my own little advent calendar :3

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**3****rd**** advent**

... **black and white …**

They walk into the bathroom and a hand on the small of John's back steers him while he holds a tissue to his nose and ice to his cheekbone. He feels a scowl directed at his face but he knows it's not meant for him. Why? He knows it because he _knows_ it, because the hand that guides him speaks a much softer and deeply worried language.

"Sit on the counter," a low voice right beside him demands softly and it is almost funny how much the voice does not match the scowl.

The second John takes the tissue away and throws it into the bathroom sink, blood start to trickle from his nose and he tilts his head back and snuffles. There is a muttered _don't_ as he does and he knows that he shouldn't because it will only aggravate the bleeding. A hum is his only reply as he places his hands on the countertop and hoists himself up. The hands that settle on his sides to help him up are not necessary, but he knows it makes Randy feel better and although he doesn't need help, it makes him feel better, too. Somehow…

He feels small as he sits down, maybe because his feet don't touch the ground as his legs dangle over the side, maybe because Randy looks even taller than usual as he stands in front of him. Maybe it is because of the scrutiny the other man gives him. The scowl has given way to mild worry John notices as he meets the stormy-blue eyes which stop roaming his face as they find John's. Underneath though John can still see the rage glint. And Randy knows that he does. He blinks once and averts his eyes.

"Randy, calm down. I'm okay, really," he assures the younger man as he tries to catch his gaze again, without success though.

"Your shirt's bloody," Randy mutters as he turns away to roam the closets for a washcloth. "Take it off."

For a long moment his eyes follow Randy as he digs through a drawer and it is obvious that Randy plays for time for an unknown reason. But John is compliant and says nothing, just tugs the tee over his head and hisses as the collar gives pressure on his sore nose. With a muttered curse it is cast to the floor and lands right beside Randy's feet as he steps up closer again to stand between thick thighs.

His friend's eyes slide over his face again and Randy winces a bit, probably because there is still a small amount of blood seeping from his nose or because of his bruised cheekbone. Then his gaze moves down to his chest, before Randy opens the faucet and wets the fabric.

The sudden hesitation Randy shows as his hand stops a few centimeters away surprises John. But he still says nothing. The younger man is absurdly shaken by what has happened even though it had only been an unspectacular little brawl. Well, not even a brawl. Some idiot threw him a punch and Randy jumped in to save the damsel in distress. It took a good handful of calming words and John's arms around Randy's waist to pull him away and that guy most likely needed a new set of teeth now.

The stormy-blue eyes are fixed on his chest now and the wet cloth hovers over his skin. He can feel the warmth.

"Like what you see?" John teases and his lips curl to a tiny smile, but Randy doesn't play along, keeps silent instead.

Involuntary a slight shudder runs through John as the washcloth touches his chest, the contrast of the wet warmth of the washcloth and the cool air around them causing a heavy wave of goose bumps running all over his skin.

"There's blood on your chest," Randy murmurs with delay, almost apologetic, as he runs the wet fabric over John's chest.

_And maybe this goddamn tender touch does its part, too_, John thinks in a dark corner of his mind and suddenly he feels an odd tingling in his guts.

Randy's other arm hangs lifelessly at his side and his eyes are somewhat distant as he keeps his task up and it's so unlike Randy to be like this. They have tripped into stupid pub fights before and his nose has been bleeding much more back then, but never, not once has his friend's reaction been close to how he acted now. John's hands rest on his own thighs as he sits patiently and he feels the urge to touch his friend, soothe whatever distresses him.

The washcloth is washed out and lifted back up, this time to John's face who hears Randy mutter a quite warning: "This is probably going to hurt."

The washcloth is pressed against his nose very gently, yet a jolt of pain explodes in John's face and he groans. The _sorry_ that leaves the younger man's lips is so quiet that he almost misses it and Randy's free hand settles on a thick thigh in apology.

"No need to, 's not your fault," he replies and lays his hand on the one that rests on his thigh.

A frown appears on the handsome face as he cautiously swipes the washcloth over the sore cheekbone.

"I should have been quicker."

The self-reproach is heavy in those words.

"If you were any quicker, Orton, you would go back in time. The guy didn't even know what happened to him," John snorts and pats the hand under his. "You literally knocked his lights out at light speed. Don't you think a simple keep your hands off would've done the job?"

Randy's lips tighten to a thin line for a brief moment before he mumbles: "Do you really think I'd watch that asshole punch you in the face just like that? He can count himself lucky that you stopped me."

"Oh, so you're my white knight in shining armor now?" John asks jokingly in an attempt to banish the strange mood which lies on them ever since they have left the bar.

Randy's hand slows its movement, sinks down and the washcloth drops into the bathroom sink. He braces his hands beside John's legs on the counter and leans slightly forward. Something shifts in those stormy-blue orbs and John knows he's never seen it there before. He doesn't know what it is but he wants to know and he holds his friend's gaze as if _it _will reveal itself to him. Randy tilts his head forward then and John never finds out what he has seen there, because when the younger man looks up to him again it's gone but what he finds there instead makes him forget about it immediately. It is that rare and soft, so infinitely soft and tender gleam John has come to love so dearly. It is a perfect sight and maybe it is only wishful thinking, but it seems to John that Randy shows it only to him.

"No, I'm the black knight. _You_ are the white knight, Johnny," Randy says quietly, his voice matching his eyes as he speaks.

"And the black knight has a soft spot for the white knight," John replies as quietly and it isn't really a question.

Randy's voice is so low when he speaks again that John can feel it and it is so tender that his heart aches: "He has. Ever since the first day."

John can't help the breath that catches in his throat and time seems to stand still as Randy leans even closer, rests his forehead against a broad shoulder and he turns his face right into the crook of John's neck. Having Randy this close isn't new to him, yet in a way… it is. Because Randy is _closer_. Maybe it is the way he hides his face against John's neck and all of a sudden John is hyperaware of every tiny thing. The way the other man's arms press against his thighs, the warmth that radiates from him. His breath that fleets over John's skin.

And maybe the right thing to do would be to push Rand away and bring some distance between them. But instead his arms circle his friend's back and his eyes close on their own as he rests his cheek against the short cropped hair. He barely feels Randy move but then… one of Randy's hands moves up to gingerly settle on his waist. Fingers splay. And then he inches even closer to John as if he wants to hide in his arms… They stay like this for a minute or two, surrounded by a thick quietness and in that quietness a part of him blames the strange mood which still lies over them after all that has happened, while the other part watches them silently.

When they part eventually Randy whispers a _sorry_ and leaves the room. John doesn't stop him. It takes him another full five minutes until he finally follows, finding Randy already lying under the blanket. He crawls in his own bed and turns over so he can see him. Just as he stretches to switch the light off, he finds Randy gaze at him and in his eyes lies an odd sadness. Whatever has been wrong with them tonight, John is almost sure he'll never find out. That strange mood is something John has no name for. Whatever it is, it mists those eyes and he can read in his friend's face that he has no idea, too.

John brings a smile to his lips because this isn't how he wants this evening to end and he receives a tiny smile in response. He holds on to that as he switches the light off. It's in the darkness that he feels it, the quietness that makes him notice it.

Somewhere deep in his chest he feels that something… has changed…


	5. 4th advent

This door is dedicated to my girl **Corkie41** :)

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**A/N** So, just to avoid too much confusion: This is some kind of a flashback. In the timeline it happens before the 1st and 2nd advent.

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**4****th**** advent**

... **flying high …**

The lights in the cabin have long been dimmed and with it the voices around them have fallen quieter, too. But the headphone Randy wears blocks any sound. His eyes are fixed on the small screen in front of him, following the movie there but his mind is somewhere else. The week has been a long one and although he isn't really tired at the moment, he feels exhausted. His eyes flick up to the bigger main screen of the cabin and it shows ETA: thirty minutes. Finally. The flight has been long, too, and all he wants it to fall into his own comfy bed and sleep for the next three days.

A frown appears on his face and his lips tighten to a thin line as he wonders if Sam is already waiting at the airport to pick him up. Most likely not after their little… disagreement… on the phone yesterday. He doesn't even know if she is at home at all. There is a chance that he'll find the house empty with a note on the fridge that she and Alanna are with Sam's parents for a few days. It wouldn't be the first time. He closes his eyes and brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Home sweet home…

A nudge in his ribs and a weight on his shoulder shake him out of his thoughts and when he turns his head the frown fades and gives way to a smile as he finds John rest against him like a pile of laundry. A broad arm hangs over the armrest in the middle, the forearm lies on Randy's thigh while the older man's head rests on his shoulder and John's neck bends in an angle than cannot be healthy. The smile on Randy's lips widens as he takes he headphone off and grabs two small pillows.

There is no reaction as Randy pushes him back carefully and puts one of the pillows between the armrest and John's side and the other on his own shoulder. He gently guides the sleeping man back against him and John's head resumes its place on his shoulder immediately. The arm on his leg twitches a bit, stilling when Randy's hand covers it. A sigh follows.

John.

Randy wonders if John and Liz still don't talk with one another. It has to be about three weeks by now… John has become quiet lately when it comes to his private life and although John answered his questions, he could see that it makes the older man uncomfortable. And so he stopped asking. At least for now.

The body beside him shifts a little, pressing a bit more against him and the head on his shoulder snuggles deeper into the pillow. Shortly after he can hear a soft snore. And somehow this, all this warms Randy's heart.

Although long, the week has been a good one. The shows have been great and spending so much time with John is always fun, even more when they room together. John makes him laugh, he is Randy's own voice of reason and he's probably the only person who can bring him down when he snaps. This man knows _everything_ about him, even things Sam doesn't have the slightest idea of. And maybe it should scare him that he has no secrets left. But it does not. John has seen his bare soul and in a strange way it makes him feel safe.

His gaze falls on his hand on John's arm, his tanned skin making a nice contrast to John's paler one. Absentmindedly he trails the tip of his index finger slowly over it and finds the skin under his touch surprisingly soft and smooth. Not that he hasn't touched John before. He has, probably more often that he has touched his own wife. The thought makes him grin because it sounds very weird. Well… he has touched John but he never realized how it feels when he does.

So many years. They have been friends for so many years that it's more of a marriage than a friendship. His grin broadens. Oh yeah, really. A marriage. This morning for example, after getting up he has found John searching the room like a maniac because he couldn't find his dog tags and he knew where John had left them. On the counter beside the door, where their wallets where and the keys. Because John always leaves them there. A habit.

He knows John's habits.

Like running around naked in his room, in his house. John's way of stress relief. Not that Randy has a problem with John being naked. It could be worse, really. The man is nice to look at.

And he should _really_ keep _that_ thought to himself…

The tip of his finger keeps its trail up as he muses and he watches John's fingers twitch as he smoothes over the back of John's wrist. Pursing his lips, he does it again. Again John's fingers twitch. Funny.

His thumb moves, finding a steady and strong pulse as it stills on the inside of John's wrist. For a brief moment he closes his eyes and his mind narrows on that rhythm, almost as if he wants his heart to fall into step with John's. Slow and calming…

Eventually he looks up, scans the cabin and finds most of their co-workers asleep or busy. No one looks in their direction.

His hand inches forward even before he drops his eyes back down to it but when he does its half-blanketing John's. For a moment there is hesitation. But then the hand moves forward again, finger's sliding between John's. There is a movement under his hand and then the other man's fingers close around his in a light hold.

It makes Randy blink and there is something about this image that is… is…

It is a bump against the backrest of his seat that causes him to pull his hand back quickly. He feels caught although there is no real reason to. A mumbling coming from his shoulder accompanies John's unfurling fingers and they splay over his thigh. Another mumbling. A tiny, barely audible moan as the other man presses closer again.

_A penny for your dreams, Johnny, _Randy thinks as he tries to ignore how empty his own hand feels.

Gazing up to the main screen he's glad so see ETA: ten minutes. Yet in a way… he isn't.

With a sigh of his own he decides that it is time to wake John.

„John? Hey, Johnny," he calls softly and settles a hand on John's again to squeeze it lightly, while his other comes up to pat the other man's cheek very gently.

The way John turns his face against his neck with his name wrapped in a soft murmur lets him hold his breath for a moment and then John wakes up with a quiet groan and he sits up, rubbing his eyes in a way that makes him look like a small boy. Sleep is blinked away from cerulean orbs and then it's there. That sleepy smile Randy has seen uncountable times and he knows that he'll never be tired of seeing it.

"Sorry for crowding you," John yawns but Randy shakes his head.

"No, 's fine. We're almost there," he replies with a smile that the other man mirrors.

Not only his hand feels empty. His shoulder... does, too...

The pilot's voice pipes up, telling them to put the seatbelts on. The sounds around them become louder again as the cabin comes to life. Shuffling, rustling, the clicking of seatbelts. There is silence between them during the landing and while it is a still tired one from John's side, it's a thoughtful one from Randy's.

When they enter the big hall of the airport a while later, Randy is surprised to see Sam. Not far from her his eyes catch Liz. He knows from the look on Sam's face that this night would be long and full of not very enjoyable talking and a small part of him wishes to still be in the hotel, sitting on his bed with John, joking. Talking. Being surrounded by ease.

They say their good-byes and part but the guarded look on John's face makes it hard for him to go. He hasn't even taken ten steps when he hears his friend call for him and when he turns, he finds him coming towards him and he is pulled into a tight hug. Randy's arms come up immediately as if they have only waited to wrap around John. There is a _thanks_ whispered into his ear and he doesn't even know what it is for. The hug ends too soon for his taste and then John slips out of his arms and walks away.

It is Sam's hand on his arm which makes him realize that he has stared after him like in a trance and there is a pull at his arm and he follows. He doesn't want to.

He steps out into the night with his wife at his side. And in a horrible way it feels… wrong.


	6. 5th advent

So, this one is dedicated to **Rko-flavored-skittlez**. Hope you'll like it :)

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**A/N** Just as the 4th advent: This is some kind of a flashback. In the timeline it happens before the 1st and 2nd advent but after the 4th advent.**  
**

* * *

**5****th**** advent**

… **hidden …**

The constant chattering has become nerve-racking by now, like an unpleasant background noise which causes a headache if you hear it long enough. He has lost track of the conversation a while ago and obviously it doesn't make a difference if he listens or not, it doesn't stop Sam and Liz from talking without taking a breath. His fingers close around a glass, lifting it to his lips. He takes a sip of his wine and peeks over its rim to John who has stopped talking over half an hour ago. Every once in a while he hums when Liz nudges him in the ribs to say something, but she doesn't even seem to realize that he does _not_ say a word. It is obvious that she isn't really interested in what he has to say at all.

Grey eyes roam John's face who is totally oblivious to being scrutinized. The other man's face is pale and expressionless and those usually joyful and sparkling eyes are somewhat dull. Underneath though Randy sees it. Sadness. Randy can see it in his friend's eyes so achingly clear as the other man eats his dinner much too silent.

And he wonders if he's the only one who notices it. Shouldn't Liz see it, too? That her husband is unhappy? She should, because it is her goddamn job to notice something like that.

A nasty little thought makes itself known, whispering that she probably _knows_ it but doesn't care.

It would fit, he thinks, because it is what he has observed lately when he sees the two of them together. They don't care about each other anymore. A silent surrender to the approaching end. He blinks once, sets the glass back on the table. He knows the feeling. He knows it because it happens to Sam and him, too. He fights it, really tries to and he hopes that Sam also tries to fight it, but somehow it grows…

For a moment he keeps gazing at John, before his eyes drop to his own plate and poking what is left of his dinner with his fork, he thinks about how to get his friend out of his own little and sad world on the other side of the table. He needs to because fuck, he can't stand it to see him like this.

Cautiously he lifts a foot, nudges the older man's leg and it takes a second or two until there is a reaction. John looks up then, trying to blink the sadness away and he even smiles at Randy, but Randy doesn't buy it and the older man's knows it.

What's wrong, Johnny? It is what Randy wills his friend to read in his eyes and it seems to work.

Everything. It is what Randy reads in those blue orbs.

From the corner of his eyes he notices that Liz and Sam are done eating and holding John's gaze he says: "How about the ladies go over to the living room and John and I clear the table?"

Somewhere between the mass of words he hears an _oh, good_ and a blink later they are alone in the dining room. And Randy tries to ignore the strange feeling as he watches John's shoulders slump a tad, as his friend breaks their eye contact and gets up, more or less fleeing to the kitchen.

Randy gets up, too, and slowly collects some things to give him a moment alone, before he follows him to the kitchen. The broad back is turned towards the door as he steps in. John leans on the counter, his head slightly bowed, shoulders tense. Without a words Randy puts the dished into the dishwasher and turns to look at John for a few seconds, before he closes the short distance between them and settles a hand between the other man's shoulder blades. The muscles under his hand are as tense as the other man looks and he curses himself silently for not noticing earlier that his friend isn't okay.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" he asks quietly.

John bows his head a bit more, shakes it slightly and the sigh Randy can hear is much too shuddering for his taste.

"Liz and I…" John begins as quietly but his voice breaks suddenly and he has to clear his throat. He takes a deep breath and tries it again: "I'm gonna file for divorce."

The hand on the broad back rubs gentle and soothing circles.

"Yeah, I guessed it would happen sooner or later," Randy murmurs as he steps closer.

"Get out of my head, Orton," the other man huffs.

The hand on John's back stills.

"I'm your friend, John. No need to bite, you know?" Randy replies and although he wants to keep the hurt he feels out of his voice, it laces into it. His hand drops to his side as he adds: "You could have said a word instead of shutting me out."

There is a whispered _sorry_ as the older man reaches back, blindly fishing for Randy's hand and keeps it in a firm hold, tugging him a tad closer. Quietness reigns as Randy waits for… he doesn't know for what. Still he waits. A minute maybe, he has no idea. Eventually his friend turns his head slightly to the side and he finds mixed emotions there. The sadness he has seen back in the dining room, guilt, self-reproach and he wants to say something to make them go away but it is John who speaks first.

"I stopped loving her a while ago. This isn't a marriage anymore, it is a duty," he says monotone. "It's just this… this goddamn feeling of having failed."

"You haven't failed, Johnny. Some things are not meant to be."

John lets go of his hand and puts his own back on the counter, turning his face away again to gaze out of the window. A bitter chuckle passes his lips.

"There is someone else…"

Randy is slightly shocked to hear that and the hurt he feels grows.

"Who?" he wants to know, swallowing hard at a sudden lump in his throat.

To hear John has found someone else hurts him, makes him feel bad, angry even and he doesn't even know why. What he _knows_ is that, as being his best friend, he has to be happy for him, although he doesn't want him to be with someone else than… than… Liz. Liz is safe. As long as John is with Liz, they have enough time for their friendship because Liz doesn't _care_. What if this new girl… what if she takes John away from him? What if…

"Nikki."

"Nikki?" he breathes.

"Nikki Bella," John laughs softly and suddenly he sounds happy and Randy _hates_ it.

Hates _her_.

Something begins to boil in Randy's guts and he realizes it is… biting jealousy. Taken aback by his own reaction he brings some distance between them and John turns around to him as he does. Randy guesses that the other man sees… it… because in a blink there lies a question in those cerulean hued orbs. A question Randy has no answer for.

"Randy?" John murmurs then, brows furrowing as he cocks his head.

He has to force the words over his lips, trying to keep his voice light as he responds: "Wow, that's great, she's a good catch. I'm happy for you, Johnny."

And maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut. John can tell when he's lying. He always can, just like right now.

"No, you're not," the older man states slowly and this time it's John who sounds hurt.

Randy opens his mouth, but no words come out. He snaps it shut again.

"I am, really," he adds finally and the word _liar_ is all written over it. "So, you have a goat-in-law now, huh?"

The expression in those baby blues tells him that John isn't willed to let it drop. It is Sam's sharp voice which saves him as she snaps that the table still isn't cleared and before John can say another word Randy flees to the dining room where he finds the relative safety of Sam and Liz.

The rest of the evening John goes back to being quiet, but Randy knows that this time it isn't because of Liz, because John's guarded blues never leave him.

It is when John and Liz leave, that Randy pulls him aside and tells him again that he's happy for him. Because, goddammit, _it_ _is_ _his fucking duty_ to be happy for his best friend. John's eyes soften and he nods. Randy is sure that John still doesn't buy it, but it is more than he can expect after his show in the kitchen.

And while he watches them go to the car, watches them drive away, he feels Sam's hand taking hold of his and he tries hard, so very hard to ignore how wrong it feels. Again. Still.

It all.


	7. 6th advent

Hey there, **LegacyChick**, this one's your door ;)**  
**

Based on something Randy once said in an interview x)

* * *

**6****th**** advent**

**... game, set and match …**

The languorous ease of having done some sport settles over him as he sits on a chair on the patio. The sun shines down on him, its warm rays trailing over his bare chest like fingertips. He's perfectly contented this very moment. Dimmed sounds are coming from upstairs and John guesses that Randy is done with showering. He likes going for a run together with him and they do it much too seldom. With a happy sigh he dips his head back and closes his eyes, feeling the golden brightness caress his face.

He sits like this for minutes, absorbed in feeling the sun, thinking nothing and being comfy. It is Randy's presence right behind him that brings him back and only a blink later he feels a touch on his shoulder. Still slightly absentmindedly he turns his head a bit and…

Randy's dick. On his shoulder.

Well… okay? So Randy's dick is on his shoulder. Fine. Turning his head away again he blinks once, closes his eyes again and tilts his face towards the sun. John knows what Randy is trying here. His friend wants him to react to it, to freak or whatever. It has become kind of a game for him to force a reaction out of him because John _never_ reacts, never freaks or loses his composure.

_It's a good thing though that the yard is not visible,_ John thinks and has to bite back a grin.

Time goes by while John sits there, savoring the sun, with Randy standing behind him and his dick on his shoulder. A minute. Two.

Then: "This is not normal, you know?"

Refusing to open his eyes or to move, John only replies: "Yup, you're right, it's not normal to put your dick on someone's shoulder."

A huff.

"Shouldn't you be, I don't know, freaking about it or something?"

"Should I? Well, your dick is quite impressive but I'm sorry to tell you that it's not the least bit threatening."

A smack on his head.

"Funny, Cena. You wanna tell me that having a dick on your shoulder doesn't bother you at all?" Randy asks incredulously.

John frowns as if he is thinking really hard about it, purses his lips. Maybe Randy's right and it should make him freak, but it in fact doesn't unsettle him the least bit. Not the tiniest bit. Funny. After an appropriate time he shrugs his unoccupied shoulder.

"Mmh, no. No. Doesn't bother me."

Quietness. Again. And while John thinks that he _so_ wants to see the look on Randy's face, Randy stays immobile. The blue eyes don't open though. Looking up now would only spoil John's show.

"You are a strange man, Cena," the younger man states after a while.

"Says the one who just put his dick on his best friend's shoulder _and_ leaves it there," comes the flat reply and John wiggles the occupied shoulder ever so slightly to underline his words.

It is a funny feeling as Randy's dick moves a bit on his shoulder, yet in the end it stays there and John thinks that this is the most absurd situation ever. And in addition he begins to wonder if Randy is completely naked. And then he wonders why he is thinking _that_ at all.

"You wanna stay like this the whole day?" John asks then casually as if it wasn't the least bit important.

"Until you freak."

John nods a bit.

"Well, then make sure your Johnson doesn't get a sunburn."

Another smack on his head.

Eventually John opens his eyes and gazes up to his friend and he notices that, yes, Randy is completely naked. Or rather, he guesses since the clothes are thrown over the other man's shoulder. He finds crossed arms, pursed lips and an arched eyebrow over inquiring grey eyes. And a cute frown.

"Randy, you're acting really silly here, you know that, don't you? And: I have more than once accidently touched your little friend in one of our matches. So as long as you don't do something like pissing on my shoulder, nothing happens here." The very second the words are out he sees a very smug expression spread over the other man's face and John curses in his mind and adds very calm: "Don't even think about it, Orton."

The smug expression is replaced by disappointment as Randy finally steps back and with an amused smile John dips his head forward again. A soft rustling behind him tells that Randy gets dressed. A moment later his friend sits down heavily on the chair beside him.

"You're no fun, Cena," the younger man mutters, his head snapping around to glare at John as he hears him snigger.

"Want something to drink?" John asks as he gets up from his chair and Randy shrugs his shoulders. "Or do you want me to put my dick on your shoulder?"

The glaring becomes scorching but the snappish tone is only half-heartedly as Randy replies: "Shut up and get something to drink, old man."

This time John has to laugh at the pouting expression the other man shoots him and as he heads for the kitchen he hears Randy laugh, too.

Game, set and match. Winner: John Cena.


	8. 7th advent

**Boredomdeluxe**, my girl, I've got this door for you :D

* * *

**7****nd**** advent**

… **she and we …**

Randy's gaze flicks through the room as he tries to find John who has left him alone here after Nikki has called him to help her with something. She always calls John away when they finally have a few minutes to talk, almost as if she wants to interrupt them on purpose.

He sits in a corner of the room, surrounded by a sheer uncountable amount of people. Too much for his taste. Some of them are strangers, some of them not. He doesn't care about them. All he wants is John to come back finally.

With a weary sigh he stands up, stretching to his full heights in the hope to get a glimpse of his friend. He isn't here because Nikki invited him, he's here because John asked him to come. It's not that Randy doesn't like the Bella twin, that he wouldn't follow her invitation to her birthday party, but somehow he can't stand the merry twosome John and Nikki are.

As John's best friend he should be happy that he has found a pretty girl. He really should.

_Really_.

But he can't. Every time he sees them together his mind tells him to be happy for them, but his heart says that he has to do something to make her go away from John. It feels wrong that they are… an item. John is his best friend. He wants to spend as much time with him as possible and ever since she walked into John life, she steals that precious time with John away from him. And he hates it.

And then he sees them coming back in and two things happen at the same time. His heart does a funny jump in his chest as his eyes fall on John and his guts twist as he watches her arm snake around John's neck. He wants to push her away from him. He fucking wants to push her out of his life.

John's eyes lock with his. That goddamn dimpled grin spreads on his John's face and it wipes all the bad feelings away. It seems that John comes closer without even moving and then Randy notices that his own feet carry him towards his friend. It is always like this, always. He's being drawn to John like a moth to the flame.

Maybe it should make him think, should feel weird in a way. It doesn't. It never does. They have been friends for such a long time now that nothing ever feels weird between them.

He watches as John takes a step towards him but he is stopped by her hand on his chest. Her pretty smile drops as she leans in close, as does John's when she whispers into his ear. John shakes his head no and slips out of her arms, shakes her hand off as she grabs his wrist. His eyes never leave Randy's while he does.

Randy smiles as he realizes the faint taste of satisfaction on his tongue.

John nods towards the front door and goes there with quick strides, almost like he wants to get away from here and Randy is the last one to complain, following him with equally quick strides. He's pretty sure Nikki is pissed right now. He certainly doesn't care.

John disappears through the front door while Randy still digs through the crowd and he quickens his pace, pushes the people out of his way a little rougher than probably necessary, but he has to get to John as fast as even possible. Wants to.

And then he's outside and there's John, sitting on a low wall close to the entrance area with his hands in his lap. A few more steps and Randy is standing right in front of the other man, quietly waiting for him to look up to him. He does and the smile hasn't returned to John's lips. Randy can see it in those cerulean hued eyes that John and Nikki have been fighting. There is no need for words. There never really is.

His hand comes up to settle on the other man's broad shoulder and only a blink later John lifts his hand up to rest it on Randy's. A small and sad frown appears on John's handsome face as his gaze drops to the ground again. Not even one second Randy wonders why he thinks of John as handsome. And he also does not wonder when John takes his hand away again, only to twist his fingers into Randy's shirt to pull him closer. The older man's head dips forward and he rests his forehead against the spot right above Randy's heart. It has become John's very own place, this very spot…

This… _this_ is right.

It is so right that his heart beats a tad faster… that he feels a fuzzy tingling run along his spine. And every time John is close to him like this, he doesn't want it to end, because he doesn't want this… _it_… between them to end… He has no name for _it_ but it is there and it is… beautiful. Perfect. Unique and untouchable.

From the corner of his eyes Randy sees Nikki come out of the house, sees her stop short and he guesses that she's still not used to this picture of them being so close but she's going to have to live with it. There is a sharp edge in her voice as she calls the other man's name, a much too demanding note lying in it and Randy wants to snap at her, tell her to shut the fuck up and go away but it is John who sends her away in a strangely quiet and steely voice. Nikki stares at them a moment longer, eyes big, brows furrowed and her lips a thin line. Then she's gone.

The taste of satisfaction becomes victory and Randy's heart does that funny jump again.

And then it trips as one of those strong arms circles his waist, while he feels the other hand on the back of his thigh and John holds on to him as if Randy could suddenly vanish if he doesn't. And Randy doesn't know why his heart trips. While he thinks that he brings his hands up, one resting on John's nape, the other cradling his head. If it's just his imagination or not, he doesn't know, but it feels like John presses closer, as if there is suddenly a warm wetness against his chest. His fingers on John's nape splay a little and the hair there feel surprisingly soft under his thumb as he brushes over it. This time he's sure it not imagination. John does press closer and it does something weird to his belly.

For a long while they stay like this, like a still-life. It's good and it's _right_. It's them and it always was, always will be, no matter if one of them has a girl at his side. Randy holds on to that thought and he keeps it close to his heart, just like he does with John.

A whisper, almost too quiet to be heard, drops from John's lips, lingers between them. It's his name.

And for the third time this night his heart jumps in his chest because after all those years it's now that he realizes, _really_ realizes it.

In the end John belongs to him. He always has.


	9. 8th advent

*Oh, by gosh, by golly, it's time for mistletoe and holly. Fancy ties an' granny's pies an' folks stealin' a kiss or two**…***

This door is dedicated to you, **Jinx302** :)

* * *

**8****th**** advent**

… **whatever saves you …**

John stands at his locker, absentmindedly staring into nothing while his fingers play with the dog-tags in his hand. It is only a matter of time until it happens. Until Randy comes here for answers. And John knows the answers he has are not the one Randy will like.

_You got suspended because you did it again. Drugs, Randy. Goddamn, fucking drugs and I agree with Vince._

Yeah, he does. Because he doesn't want to watch while Randy ruins his career. His life. He had to sit at Randy's bed once after… and overdose… and back then he swore that he would never let that happen again. He has to take a deep breath at the memory. A memory that is much too vivid. After all the time that paralyzing fear of losing him was still much too alive in his heart and giving it the merest chance to come back, even if it was only for a second or two… every time it felt like he was right there, living those moments again.

The sound of an opening door cuts into his thoughts. And then the door is slammed shut with so much force that the locker rattles. He can hear Randy breathe harshly and he can feel the rage radiating from the younger man. John doesn't turn around, only stares at his dog-tags as he waits. He knows he won't have to wait long.

"You bloody bastard," Randy growls then. "You fucking asshole! Is that your concept of being a best friend?! Stabbing me in the back like that?!"

Although he has expected something like that, the words hit him like blows because this is his Randy, yet he isn't and somehow, this very moment, it feels like his best friend is slipping through his fingers. And he hopes it is not too late to get a hold on him.

John sighs and wants to explain, but Randy cuts him off with a hissed: "Why?!"

For a moment John says nothing as he turns around. The hair on his neck rise as he sees how furious Randy is. He can't remember a moment that those eyes have ever looked at him as cold as now.

"If you really don't know why I approve Vince's decision, then you need that time off more than I already thought," he replies eventually, quietly.

"What _the fuck_ are you talking about, Cena?!"

"Are you really asking me that? Look at you, Randy. Just take _one real look _at you. You're about to lose control again because you just can't leave your hands off that bloody shit. Don't you get it? I don't want to sit at your bed again in a fucking hospital and be afraid that you could _die_! I don't want to lose you and if that means you need to get suspended to get it in that pighead of yours, then I happily agree, Randy."

He turns away from the younger man, turns his back towards him to hide how much it hurts himself that he had to do what he has done. Agree that his best friend gets a suspension… The harsh breathing behind him doesn't calm down and he wishes he could just turn around again and calm him, but for once he's sure that _he_ is _not_ the one who can bring Randy down from his rage. It is a new situation for him, them, but what follows… he would have never expected what follows.

The roar behind him makes his heart drop to his feet and he hasn't enough time to react before Randy's fist collides with the locker, right beside his head. A jolt runs through him and he's much too shocked to move. All he can do is trying to get his own breathing back under control and will his heart to stop pounding. His eyes close as he fights with himself. And then he realizes puffs of hot air against his neck, how close Randy suddenly stands.

None of them moves for long seconds until John finally gets his voice working and it takes him all his willpower to make sure it doesn't shake, doesn't break or give way how shaken he is. Because never before, not one single time, has Randy been like this towards him…

"Thank you for proofing my point, Randy."

He hears Randy's breath catch and in a way he should be happy about it, that the younger man obviously slowly realizes what is just happening, but he can't. He simply can't. The fist beside his head is pulled back. The sound of steps, leaving the room. A door closes. And then there is… nothing. Quietness falls over the room.

Bracing a hand against the locker as a slight dizziness takes hold of him he tilts his head back, breathing in, breathing out. In and out. Slowly, very slowly, until he feels the dizziness fade a bit, feels his heart slow down. Finally. As his eyes open again, his gaze falls on the spot where Randy's fist has been and there is a dent in the metal. He lifts a hand and trails his fingers over it.

"Fuck," he breathes as the last minutes suddenly come back to him like a boomerang and he barely manages to get to a bench before his legs give out all of a sudden.

He has betrayed Randy's trust. Agreeing to Vince _is_ like stabbing him in the back. What if Randy had punched _him_ instead of the locker? What if… what if… he has just destroyed the best friendship of his whole life?

Something between a moan and a groan escapes his throat as he leans forward and buries his face in his hands as he fights the urge to throw up.

And while he sits there he keeps telling himself that it has been the right thing to do…

The parking lot is barely illuminated from the street lights as he walks out of the building much later. His feet carry him over to his car and he almost misses the figure sitting on the ground as he throws his stuff into his car. He's a bit surprised as he realizes it is Randy, sitting in front of his own car with his back against its front.

John heaves a sigh and walks over, approaching him gingerly. Randy's head is dipped backwards, a tense expression and a tiny frown disturb the handsome features. Randy does not look at him. Very hesitantly John sits down beside him, leaving a hands-breadth between their shoulders. Still he can feel the other man tense up even more. There is a single, almost not visible twitch around Randy's mouth.

"Why?" John asks and receives a weary sigh.

The fit of rage is over, he notices.

"We both know you don't need that shit, so why? Tell me, because I don't understand it."

Another weary sigh. Defeat lies in it.

"Because I need to, John. I need to be strong and successful. I need to be fucking perfect, every day, every week, every fucking year."

He knows Randy. He should have known it, should have seen it. But maybe he has been too absorbed in his own brand-new and oh so happy life with Nikki. A pang of guilt rings through him.

"You don't need to risk your life with that bloody stuff to be all that. It's what you already are. What you've always been, Ran. "

Randy pulls his knees up to his chest, braces his elbows against them and cradles his head in his hands. It makes him look too damn small and forlorn. The picture stabs John right into the heart, makes him swallow hard and avert his eyes.

_This is my fault, _he blames himself for being so blind.

"It all has become too much, John. I can't…" Randy says and the usually full voice is somehow thin and fragile. "Sometimes there are moments when I feel like I can't take even one more step. It fucking feels like…" Randy stops speaking again, clears his throat and when he continues his voice is barely a whisper. "It feels like my life is crushing me…"

If the picture a minute ago has stabbed him in the heart, John has no words for how he feels now. It _hurts_… comes not even _close_.

"Why haven't you talked to me, you goddamn idiot?" John rasps and blinks back hot tears which are suddenly filling his eyes.

Silence for a full minute and it is a choking one. And because John can't stand it, he inches closer until their shoulders bump and the younger man's reaction is immediate. His hand drops to John's leg and digs into the thick thigh, claws almost.

"I don't know…" Randy whispers, desperate.

As John puts his hand on Randy's to give comfort, to soothe, his friend's fingers curl around his in an almost painful grip and this gesture if even more desperate than Randy's words have been. Don't let go, it says. Don't leave me alone…

_Never_, John thinks. _Never…_

"You shouldn't be alone now, Ran. Is Sam at home?" he asks quietly and feels Randy twitch slightly.

Randy blinks once and the muscles of his jaw jump, before he forces out: "She is, but we… I… I don't…"

The stammering ends with a shuddering breath.

"Wanna come home with me?" John asks gently.

Finally Randy looks up to him with big and watery eyes and breathes a _yeah_ while his brows furrow in sorrow. A single tear rolls down his cheeks.

And John feels like his heart is ripped out.

He is not sure if his voice will fail him if he speaks now, so instead he squeezes his friend's hand and stands up, pulling Randy with him. Their hands stay joined as they walk over to John's car. When they get there it's a tug that stops him and before he knows what's happening, he finds himself in a tight embrace.

"Back in your locker… I'm sorry, John, I didn't mean to lose it but… I was so angry…" Randy apologizes and the desperation is almost too heavy in it for John to bear it. "I know you had to do it."

"It's okay, Ran," John murmurs while his arms wrap around the slender waist.

He shifts a little in the tight hold, pulls back a bit and breathes a kiss to Randy's temple.

And as Randy pulls him closer again John thinks that there is nothing he wouldn't do for Randy, no matter how bitter, how hard it is. How painful for both of them.

_Whatever saves you, _he whispers in his mind. _Whatever saves you…_


	10. 9th advent

This door is dedicated to** Angel ** :D

* * *

**9****th**** advent**

**… easter eggs …**

* * *

He sits on the wooden bench in the back of the yard and thinks that the air is so wonderfully crisp and clear. The sun shines brightly and its rays feel like warm fingers. He dips his head back and closes his eyes, savors the feeling of the sunshine on his face. The air is not only crisp and clear, it also smells good. Fresh and vivid. Like spring. A deep breath floods his lungs with it, floods his body with a rare unconcern and lightness.

It is not quiet though. The background sounds are very much audible. A light voice and a low one, talking, laughing, squeaking and tittering. Cries of joy. Here and there… His mind delves into it and he can't help the smile that spreads over his face. Although it isn't quiet, a precious calmness lies over the yard. It is a perfect day to be outside.

And it is a perfect day for a happy egg hunt.

There is a squeaked _Daddy_ that makes him dip his head forward again and when he opens his eyes, he finds Alanna waving to him. The happiest of smiles lightens her face up and the sun makes her blond hair look like a halo. His chest swells with love as he gazes at her, waving back. And with a laughter as clear as a bell she turns around, grabs a big hand and continues to drag its owner along the yard.

He watches Alanna and John run around in the yard, left and right, back and forth because it is Alanna's own personal style to go on an egg hunt. It takes twice as long this way, but who cares. John obviously not, because it's what he has done for about an hour now. Follow her around, holding her small basket and doing patiently what she demands.

It has been Alanna's wish to do this, search for Easter eggs with the naked baby.

After Sam had left this morning to go out for a coffee with a friend, Alanna started to ask him to call Uncle John. She kept asking him over and over again, until he eventually called him. And John? Although his friend had planned on spending the day with Nikki, he is here, in Randy's yard, spending his day with them, not with her. A point for him in their fight for John. He doesn't even try to hide the mischievous little grin that crosses his face at the thought.

Yeah, John is here. And it makes the day even more perfect. And leave it to John to make the whole thing a show, with bunny ears, false buck teeth and the silliest thing is the scut that sticks to the back of his jeans. It is highest amusement that hums in Randy at the sight of a 250 pounds Easter bunny hobbling behind his daughter. He actually _hobbles_. And his ears are waggling as he does.

Then John stops, looks at him and shoots him that freaking cute dimpled grin… that even those buck teeth can't ruin… before he turns around and wiggles his ass. And that _scut_… it makes it even more… _wiggly_… and the wiggling highlights John's _ass_ in a forbidden way and… Well, even for a guy it is almost impossible to ignore that ass. There are few women with such a round butt.

Randy halts, blinks. And snorts softly. Is he seriously musing about his best friend's ass?

But whatever thoughts have been occupying his mind, they are wiped away in a blink as he sees John pick Alanna up, lifting her high over his head and into her high-pitched laughter mingles his full and hearty one.

Picture-perfect…

They look like… it _feels_ like… like… family… Suddenly Randy feels a pressure on his chest but it isn't a bad one. It is good. Warm and bubbling and it is so strong that he averts his eyes because if not, it feels like his heart might burst any second.

Leaning forward he braces his elbows on his knees and fixes his eyes on a random spot on the lawn. Well that… has been unexpected. Fuck, when has his heart started to pound like this? And why does it pound at all…?

"What is _he_ doing here?"

Randy's head snaps around and his surprised gaze collides with Sam's not very amused one. That she is seriously pissed is written in capital letters all over her face. That again isn't unexpected but _she_ is unexpected. Shouldn't she still be gone for a while?

"Am I seeing this correctly, is he egg hunting with her?" Sam asks sharply.

Calmness and perfection are crushed in only two sentences and one particular presence.

"He's wearing bunny ears and buck teeth and carries a basket with eggs," Randy sighs. "What do you think? He's the real Easter bunny and came here to hide the eggs?"

Her brows furrow and her lips tighten. But only for a brief moment.

Then: "She's _my_ daughter and you know that I wanted to…"

She stops mid-sentence as Randy stands up, snapping: "She is _our_ daughter and you were the one who left this morning to go out for a coffee. Ally wanted to egg hunt with John and you know what? He's doing a great job. She's having a wonderful time and you should be glad that Ally's happy. She hasn't had much reason to laugh lately, Sam, don't you think?"

Stunned silence for a few second in which her mouth opens and closes without words coming out of it. He can see the angriness in her eyes become brighter but for once she seems to be too surprised to say something.

Things have changed. Over the past weeks, months. It's not like it used to be. Those times of a happy marriage have gone missing somewhere along the line and the nothing it leaves behind is eating him up, every day a little more. But it isn't one-sided. Sam has stopped looking at him like she has done when things were good a while ago already. There is nothing left of _them_. Randy steps back, bringing some more distance between them. A move that is absurdly symbolical for their life together. And he can't stand it any longer.

Turning away from her he leaves to go over to Alanna and John and with every step he's becoming more aware that he moves away from a _we_ that doesn't exist anymore, to a _we_ that is alive and growing with every day. And with every step the smile comes back to his lips a little more…

When he gets to the little golden angel and the giant goofy Easter bunny it's on full display, brightening even more when Alanna calls _Daddy_ again, reaching out to him while still sitting on John's arm.

Her little arm loops around his neck and he's being pulled close, closer, until he's nose to nose with John who still smiles a blinding smile that makes Randy's fade. Because it is back, that warm and bubbling feeling and again it is overwhelming, but this time he can't look away. And it steals his breath…

Eventually Alanna climbs over into his arms, kisses him on the cheek and demands to be set back to the ground. Randy obeys. Alanna takes off immediately to the next potential hiding place for Easter eggs. A small voice urges Randy to follow her, because he's at a loss how to cope with his own reaction. It's John's hand on his belly which stops him. There is a chance that the other man can feel his heart since it started to pound again for a reason Randy can't name and because his heart plummets right to where John's hand is at the touch.

"Randy?"

The older man's voice wraps so tenderly around his name that it doesn't help a bit, only makes the odd feeling that holds him prisoner worse, makes his heart pound even more. And Randy desperately tries to find a reason why this happens. Maybe because his family is about to break apart. It has to be the reason, because he has no other answer to the _why_ he keeps asking himself. Against his will his hand comes up to settle on the one resting on his belly and he knows that his eyes tell John way more than he wants him to know right now… because what they show is something he can't explain.

But John is John and he… he's just _there_. Like he always is when Randy needs him. No questions, only being there, giving everything Randy needs... His hand moves out from under Randy's, smoothes over to wrap around his waist, pulling him into a hug. And Randy's heart, it _runs_…

But between all the confusing emotions, feelings, between all those things which make no sense there is one thing that is always there when he's around that man. A fuzzy and warm, shining feeling. He can't give it a name but it is calming and addictive. With a sigh he slips an arm around his friend's waist, too, leans into the hug and he as he does he feels John's other arm loop his neck. And suddenly there is no space left between them.

Safeness. It's what those arms provide. And comfort…

The moment is over abruptly as Alanna calls for them impatiently. When they part John gives him that oh so soft smile as they walk over to her. A hand stays on the small of Randy's back all the way and he thinks that, despite everything there is one thing that never changes.

John makes him feel… home.


	11. 10th advent

Hello there, **CeNationsViper061193**, this door opens for you :3

* * *

**10th advent**

**… shelter …**

* * *

John sets a six-pack on the bedside table and switches the TV on, before he walks over to the closet and changes into jogging pants and a tee. The sound of the running shower stops abruptly, giving him a hint that Randy will show up in a minute or two. Taking one of the beers he crawls onto the bed, kicking the duvet back with his feet and makes himself comfortable, sitting propped up against a thick pillow.

Ever since Randy has arrived here, he hasn't spoke even one single word but there was no need to anyway. John knew what had happened the very second he opened the door and looked straight into those well-known grey orbs. Randy has left Sam. One second. That is how long it had taken him to see it there. After that one second a veil settled over Randy's eyes, guarding them as Nikki stepped up to John's side and while John kept looking at his friend, he heard her speak to him, telling him that they have no time now because they are about to go out for dinner. That she is sorry but he has to go.

Shut up.

It had been out of his mouth before he even thought about wrapping the message in nicer words. He hadn't meant to be so mean to her, but there was Randy standing at his door, a holdall and a suitcase sitting beside him and… _it_ in his eyes. Randy had come here because he _needed_ him and nothing in this world is more important to him than… than…

Randy.

He saw a glint of relief in the younger man's eyes, swallowed immediately by the veil which still lay over his eyes. Nikki left, fuming, cursing, hurling things at him he never would have expected could come out of her pretty mouth. But her voice stepped into the background while he reached for the suitcase and the holdall and told Randy to come in. The door closed behind her, cutting her voice off. And in the sudden quietness of the hall he watched as Randy's shoulders slumped and the heavy breath slipping past his lips had sounded much too exhausted for John's taste. Go take a shower, he had told him and Randy only nodded and John felt a soft brush of fingers on his arm as Randy passed him.

Quiet steps approaching the room called him out of his thoughts and a heartbeat later the door opened, revealing a reluctant Randy. The other man almost looks like he isn't sure if he is really welcome, looks guilty, probably for ruining John's evening out with Nikki and the baggy jogging pants and the much too big shirt he wears make him look somewhat small.

With a reassuring smile John nods his head towards the free space beside him, reaches for another beer that he hands his friend as he finally sits down beside him and watches as it is drowned in a few hearty gulps. Wordlessly John hands him a second one.

Randy still says nothing, only sits there, head dipped back against the wall. Staring at the TV. John lets him because he knows the younger man's gonna talk when he feels like talking. Minutes pass. Eventually he reaches over and takes an empty bottle from unresisting fingers and puts it aside.

The grey eyes look so very hollow that John has to close his own for a second before he turns back to him. From the corner of his eyes he notices his friend's hand drop to the mattress, sees it turn palm up. He doesn't lose a thought about what he's doing as he lays his hand on it, intertwining their fingers, smiles a sad little smile as Randy's fingers close around his in a firm hold. It's an almost desperate hold. And still no words are spoken, maybe won't the whole night and it's not necessary. The only important thing right now is being here, together.

Randy sighs and it sounds as hollow as his eyes look, tugging at John's heart and in response he brushes his thumb over the back of the hand that holds on to him. And Randy's hold tightens even more. Another sigh follows and the other man closes his eyes, rolls his head slightly against the wall. It is a small sound that drops from his lips, something between a tiny laughter and a sob.

For a heartbeat or two John's too surprised to do anything as Randy suddenly moves, turning over to curl up against him without letting go of his hand. An arm wraps around John's waist, a face is pressed against his chest and for the first time this night Randy speaks. It is one single word and it is his name, whispered so desperate that John's sure he'll never forget it. Again John feels a tug at his heart, harsh, feels how it tears at it and leaves tiny cracks behind. There is something seeping out of those cracks. He can feel it but he can't stop it and it _burns_ in his chest, hot and consuming.

A long leg hooks behind his as the body at his side presses closer and it's the moment he finally can move again, turning slightly to Randy as he wraps his free arm around his shoulders. His heart breaks, setting a flood of that nameless something free, stealing his breath, causing an ache to hold his friend close, closer, shelter him from the world.

The kiss he breathes to the short hair surprises himself a bit but in a dark corner of his mind there is a voice reminding him that this isn't the first kiss he has given Randy. And that voice also whispers that it is very okay to do this now. Because Randy needs it. And John… needs it, too.

"I've got you," he whispers and slips a bit deeper into the pillow.

Randy shifts a little in his hold until he can bury his face against John's neck and it takes John some willpower to keep on breathing. The warm breath which fans over his skin, a closeness that is so much closer than they use to share anyway… it takes him back to that night after the bar fight, back to that moment in the bathroom. That moment they had been impossible close. At least he has thought so, but now…? Closer. _Closer_…

It is vivid, that memory of that very moment and of what he had felt afterwards, lying in the dark room, with that strange knowledge that something has changed… deep within him.

Having Randy close like this, _holding_ him close feels good and _right_ in so many ways… It is not the first time he notices it and while he gazes out of the window into the moonlit night, he turns that thought back and forth, examining it carefully. Their relationships has changed, definitely. It has become deeper, much _much_ deeper with an affection he never has felt before and this friendship, this man… suddenly it, _he_ is so much more important… Like they have taken an impossible big step forward, unknown by both of them though. Like leaving invisible barriers behind.

And that although John always thought they couldn't get any closer…

Fishing for the duvet with his foot he pulls it up and he could swear he hears a tiny sound of discontent as he removes his arm from around Randy to pull the duvet over them both. That done his arm immediately resumes its place around the younger man. John has to, because his arm… it feels empty.

Maybe the question he should ask is: what happens here?

The questions he asks though is: "Need anything?"

As Randy speaks, John hold his breath at his answer once more, because the calm tone, the tender note in it gets right under his skin…

"No… I've got everything I need..."

The room falls silent around them as the night becomes deeper and while John gazes back out of the window again, thinking, wondering and… and feeling… the body in his hold relaxes. A strange ease that shouldn't be there, because Randy's marriage just fell to pieces, settles down on them but as wrong as it should feel, it doesn't.

John is still staring into the night long after Randy has fallen asleep and he listens to his breathing, feels his warmth, hears him mumble in his sleep… his name and two little words which shouldn't give him that achingly sweet feeling that now spreads throughout John...

_… need you …_


	12. 11th advent

**Bluestar711**, this is your door! Hope you'll like it )

* * *

**11th advent**

**… toys for big boys …**

* * *

Loud. Full. Straining. Exhausting. Boring.

John sits in the middle of his living room, surrounded by what must be about fifty people and while he smiles, holding a by now warm Coke in hands, more words pop up in his mind and all of them describe this party.

It's his fucking birthday party.

Nikki surprised him with it, invited their co-workers, friends, family, neighbors and he's sure there are people he has never seen before, but they are here. There is a buffet, music, his living room has become a dance floor and the high spirits in here are almost overwhelming. He has lost Nikki somewhere in this house about an hour ago but really, she has been so busy with being a perfect host that, although being the birthday boy, John found himself being only her shadow as he followed her around. At some point he decided then that following her like a puppy wasn't his concept of having a happy birthday.

Well, not that it is better now. The smile he keeps up the whole time might be etched permanently into his features by now but it is his fucking job, isn't it, to smile at his guests? Guests he doesn't even want to be here. Oh, not that he doesn't like them. He just doesn't want them to be here, _now_, when he wanted to spend a nice and quiet day off.

And… there is something… no, someone… missing.

Of all people he is not here. Or maybe he is and they just haven't found each other yet. Well, there is a chance… John excuses himself and the funny thing is, the group he has been sitting with the whole time doesn't even notice him go away. He can live with it. While he squeezes his way through the dancing crowd he scans the room in the hope to find him. After what feels like another hour but what might has been only about ten minutes, he steps into the hall, without a sign of him. Still not giving up on the hope that he is somewhere in here, John keeps gazing around. A woman steps up to him, congratulates and hugs him and yes, he's sure he has never seen her before.

It is his cell that gives him an excuse to peel out of her arms as it makes itself known and once again excusing himself, he walks over to the garage and hides there, while fishing for his cell. The second his eyes catch sight of the caller-ID the smile he has worn the while blessed day morphs to a real, bright one. Bright enough bring up the dimples. It feels like he can't answer the call soon enough and he is sure the utter relief that is now flooding him shows up in his voice as he speaks.

"Dammit, Ortz, where the fuck are you? Please tell me you're somewhere in this loony bin," he more or less pleads down the line and receives a chuckle.

"No, I'm not," Randy replies, amusement audibly tingeing his voice. "But I'm standing right in front of it and I suggest you come out and get your birthday present?"

His feet carry him already towards the side door as he mutters miserably: "You better have a good excuse for being late."

The last thing he hears is a quiet tittering before the line falls dead. The door opens under a maybe a bit too forceful push that makes it collide with the garage door, but it fits his mood. He wants out here, wants to go to Randy and get away from here. He needs to _breathe_, goddammit…

The urge to get to his friend grows with every step and the few meters from the side door to the front door seem ridiculously long but when he finally gets there he… freezes in his tracks. Randy is there, waiting for him. A confused mind tries to process the image his eyes show him. There is Randy, a smile as bright as the April sun plastered all over his face and he's leaning against the hood of a… a… car. Not Randy's car. This is _definitely_ not one of Randy's cars… It is… John blinks and tilts his head a bit to the side, blinking a little more…

It is the 1971 Ford Torino GT John wants to have for his collection, the one doesn't get.

Dumfounded is probably a good word for how John stands there, still blinking as Randy pushes away from the car to come over to him. He's laughing as he does, quietly, happily.

And because John still stares at the car when Randy steps up to him, he tips him against the forehead and asks, very much amused: "Hello? McFly? Anybody at home?"

"What…?" John mumbles as he eventually looks at the younger man. "That car…"

The smile on Randy's face brightens, becoming brighter as the sun. At least that's how it seems to John, who feels him take his hand and put something on his palm. He gazes down on his hand. And finds a car key. His eyes are wide as they find sparkling grey orbs again.

"Happy birthday, Johnny."

The low voice is so tender as Randy speaks that John feels his heart trip and shaking his head slightly in disbelief he wraps his arms around his friend's neck, pulling him into a hug. And his heart still trips because Randy is here, because he has just given him this car and because… because he hugs him back with an intensity that John doesn't want it to end.

It has to though but when they step back one of John's hands stays on his friend's chest, while he feels a hand rest on his waist. The sparkling in those grey eyes becomes blinding, the bright smile softens to a deeply affectionate one at the _thanks_ he whispers and it is overwhelming, enthralling and he can't do anything but stare while he should look away, because it steals his breath.

It takes him long seconds until he finds his voice again, his fingers closing tightly around the key as he whispers: "Let's get out of here."

They do. For about two hours they only drive around in companionable ease. Only few words are spoken and all the time the happiest of grins is spread over John's face, because this car, it is his now and he feels free, disburdened and there beside him sits the one person he wants to share his happiness with. _This_ is what he thinks is a good birthday. _This_… is what he wants.

It's a small diner they end up after those two hours, totally unhealthy food piled up in front of them and hearty laughter fills their own little peaceful bubble which engulfs the small table they are sitting at. He has forgotten about the oh so merry birthday party he should be present at. Right now… he feels fucking perfect.

Randy is nursing a burrito while he watches him with mild amusement lingering on his face, like he's contended with what he sees. And maybe he is. There are times when it doesn't take much to make this man happy, as spoiled as he can be. John arches an eyebrow as he sets the burger back on the plate and drinks some of his Coke.

"Like what you see?" he grins.

Randy nods a little as he replies: "Yeah, very much. You look happy, Johnny, and that makes me happy."

The statement, sober yet fond at the same time, makes John swallow hard and for a brief moment he lets his gaze sweep through the room because as innocent as those words are, as the moment is, he can feel a giddy heat rise. His eyes find the Torino. His heart jumps. He has no idea how long he has wanted this car, tried to get it and now it is standing right there and it _his_ car. And it has been Randy who has given it to him. It makes the car even more precious.

"Thank you for the car, Ran. You have no idea what it means to me," he speaks while keeping his eyes on the car and in his mind he sees the picture of Randy, leaning against the hood in the sunlight with that impossibly bright smile on his face.

A picture-perfect memory…

"Tell me, Johnny…"

It takes the words a second to sink in and when they do, John slowly looks back at his friend, finding _something_ in the depths of those well-known eyes. He can't. He can't tell him. Because he has no fucking idea how to put into words what he feels. How could he, when he can't even name _what_ it is that he feels?

"How did you know about the car?" John says then, hoping Randy wouldn't ask _that_ again.

And Randy lets him get away with it. At least for now.

"Do you really think I wouldn't know something like that?" the younger man chuckles. "What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn't know what you wish for?"

Sometimes John forgets that there is nothing Randy doesn't know about him. Probably because it is like this for years now, knowing everything about the other, accepting the other the way he is.

This man is much too perfect to be true.

The thought pierces through his mind, his heart and it leaves him shaken in a way. Leaves him without the slightest idea what to say.

It it his cell that saves him as it begins to dance on the table and relieved he focuses on the small device, feeling the grey eyes staying fixed on his face. He's not surprised to find a message from Nikki or that it has taken her two hours to notice that he isn't in the house anymore. Stalling a bit for time he reads the message three time, puts the cell aside and eventually gazes back up to Randy.

"Nikki. She has noticed that I'm gone," he explains, pursing his lips.

Randy frowns a bit.

"I guess she's not ver happy about it?"

He shrugs his shoulders as he keeps his eyes locked with the younger man's and the frown on the handsome features fades as he gives him a small smile.

"No, not very happy," he admits. "She wrote something about me getting my ass back home immediately and spending my night on the couch if I don't."

"Well then, you wanna go home?" Randy asks with a note of _please_ _don't_ in it.

And John _doesn't_ want to.

"No.. I don't want to. I'm exactly where I want to be," John says very quietly and there is a heavy mixture of sincerity and affection lying in it.

And then it is back, that blinding sparkling in Randy's eyes he has seen two hours ago there. And again he can't look away. He doesn't care, doesn't want to look away… Again it steals his breath and… he doesn't care. He also doesn't care that it should totally unsettle him when it _doesn't_. Because there is warmth spreading throughout him and an addicting tingling flows down his spine. Because being here with Randy feel right and it seems like he has waited for this for ages… without even realizing it.

And as he allows himself to drown in those gorgeous grey orbs he thinks that, yes, that he's right where he wants to be.

With the one person he wants to be...


	13. 12th advent

This door opens for **78punkton80** ;3

* * *

Alonia187 - I didn't take it as an offense ;D Yeah, you're right, the girls in this story are somewhat stereotype/alike, yet it works for this story I guess, 'cause the focus lies on the boys and their moments, so I didn't want the girls to be elaborated characters in this one. And although I tend to write Sam as a… well, bitch, I in fact think that she is a lovely girl. It feels like she is when I look at her :) (doesn't apply to Nikki though… ;)

* * *

**12th advent**

**… waiting …**

* * *

_I don't want you here._

_And I don't care what you want._

_I'm his girlfriend._

_And I'm his best friend, so what?_

_Go._

_Huh, sure as hell not._

He rubs his eyes, tries to banish the burning in them. The little light the bedside lamp provides leaves him sitting in a semi-darkness that doesn't help, only makes the burning worse, but it's late and doesn't want the light to disturb John's sleep. As far as it can be called a sleep. Stifling a groan as he gets up from his chair, stretching his aching back and limbs, he walks over to the window and gazes out into a dark yet by the usual lights of the city life illuminated night.

Behind him the door jumps open and he hears quiet steps come closer. A female voice tells him that it is late, that he should go and get some rest. That they would call if John condition changes. He only shakes his head. He's not gonna leave John's side now. Never. For a moment she waits. Then he hears her leave the room. The door closes with a quiet click.

_What gives you the right to stick your nose in our life?_

_Nikki, I don't want to discuss this with you. I'm staying._

It's so much more peaceful in here since Nikki has left. Her face when he stepped into the room has told him how outraged she has been to see him here. But in the end she should have known he would come. She's just so… she's not easy to handle and in a way he can understand her animosity towards him since they do have their own private little fight for John. And she's afraid. It has been written all over her face and Randy understands her. All too well. But staying at John's side is nothing he's gonna discuss about and he's not gonna back down.

When he turns around his eyes immediately seek John's face and it's an odd sight, seeing him lying there with a peaceful expression as if he's dreaming a sweet dream. Well, maybe he is. Randy doesn't know, but he hopes it. The only thing that ruins the image is the oxygen mask which is covering his friend's nose and mouth. With a worried frown Randy dips his head forward, rubbing his neck as he exhales a heavy sigh and with that sigh still on his lips he moves back to the bed, sitting on the mattress.

His hand finds John's forehead, feeling that he's still running a fever and as if he wants to gently wipe that fever away, Randy smoothes his hand over the short hair. His frown deepens a bit as he once more notices how pale the older man is and the voice in his head becomes a bit louder again as it keeps telling him that John's gonna be alright, that he's already doing much better than a few hours before.

"Stubborn mule," he whispers as he trails his fingertips over a pale cheek.

_Randy… John's not doing well. He came back from the ring and suddenly he… collapsed_

Daniel's words are still echoing in his ears and the horrid feeling that has been piercing through his guts at them is still there, like a shadow, now sitting in his chest as if it is waiting to rear up again. It's something close to fear, only… worse. Yet there is no reason for it anymore, because _John is going to be all right_. He has to be alright. Everything else is simply not an option.

His hands cup John's face as he leans down and rests his forehead against the other man's, closing his eyes as he rasps: "You goddamn idiot. Scaring me like that…"

The sound of strained breathing lies heavy in the quietness but at least John can breathe on his own. Why has this man to be so… so… Randy sighs again. Stubborn is an understatement when it comes to John. Ignoring the signs until it has become a fully grown pneumonia… and a too close call...

"You could have died," he says very quietly and his voice breaks at the last word. "You can't do something stupid like that, okay? You can't just leave me alone. Don't do that…"

The skin under his hands is still much too warm, he thinks desperately. The mantra he keeps telling himself hour after hour fails to do its job, fails to calm him. Thumbs brush along heated cheekbones, swiping away a few tears which have fallen from grey eyes.

"I know you're somewhere in there and I know that you can hear me, Johnny," he whispers again. "Please come back."

Dropping a kiss to the other man's forehead, Randy slips from the bed and onto his chair again, taking John's hand between his own and bracing his elbows onto the mattress, he lifts his friend's hand to his mouth to breathe a kiss to the motionless fingers. And a second. A third. Before Randy's lips come to rest against those fingers and he whispers his friend's name, willing him to wake up. A vain hope, at least at the moment. There is a chance that John will wake up tomorrow. It's what the doc has said. Maybe tomorrow.

And Randy _hopes_.

A trembling suddenly runs through him, makes his breath hitch and the desperation he has managed to hold at bay ever since Daniel's call… it breaks through. Tears are streaming down his face as he keeps his eyes fixed on John's face and there is a pain in his chest that makes it hard to breathe, that threatens to devour him.

"I… I need you, okay? _I need you._"

As he says those words, heavily stained with tears, he's not even sure if he himself really understands their true extend, only knows that it is what he _feels_. It's what every fiber of his body screams, deafening loud…

He blinks against the tears and lifts a hand to his face to wipe the wetness away as he hears the door being opened again. A nurse comes in and checks on John. Randy does not look at her, keeps his gaze on the pale face but from the corner of his eyes he sees her look at him.

"He's much better," she says and Randy's heart clings to her words.

She leaves, leaving them alone again and the tears come back to his eyes. He just can't keep them from falling, has held them back too long. A part of him wonders if this is what John has been feeling back then, when he was sitting at his bed after the overdose, if John has been as scared as he is now? As desperate? Maybe… because John has said that he had been afraid that he could die back then. That he doesn't want to lose him.

Shifting a little, Randy tries to get a bit more comfortable. Still sitting on the uncomfortable chair, half lying on the mattress he still holds on to his friend's hand, keeps his eyes on his face. And the tears and the fear within him keep him company as he waits, hopes, prays…

It is a gentle hand that wakes him the next morning, a hushed voice which says his name and when he shakes a not very restful sleep off, he finds Nikki standing beside him with a little smile on her lips. Hesitantly he smiles back. It's good that for once there is a ceasefire instead of that smoldering little war between them.

She holds a coffee towards him and he takes it gratefully, watches her round the bed to sit on the other side and he also watches as he kisses his temple, caresses his cheek. It is obvious that she loves John, that she's worried and being his girlfriend it is her right to touch and kiss him.

It doesn't make it easier for Randy though to have to watch her do it.

For a while the sit in silence while they both hold John's hands, waiting for a sign that he'll wake up. There is a numbness weighing down on Randy as they do and the whole situation seems surreal in a way. Time… seems to stand still.

He almost misses the quiet groan.

Not letting go of the hand he holds, he sits on the edge of the mattress while his eyes roam the other man's face. Faintly he hears Nikki say something to John, urging him to wake up but Randy can't speak. Can't breathe. All he can do is wait, brushing his thumb over the back of John's hand as he hopes. It is a mountain that drops from his heart as those baby blues finally open, so very slowly and so very tired. But so very, very alive.

Nikki leans down and puts the oxygen mask aside, kisses to the corner of John's mouth. Yet the first thing he whispers is Randy's name and for a second Randy feels sorry for her as she turns away from them, wiping a few tears from her face.

But it's the hand in his, the one which now, finally, answers his hold that makes him forget about anything around them and it's the small, tired smile John gives him that, for now, makes his world whole again...


	14. 13th advent

Hey, **Fire**, this door has your name on it :)

* * *

**13th advent**

**… a closer closeness ….**

* * *

_I swear I'm gonna break every single bone in your body if you touch him one more time._

It isn't his style to threaten people like that, but the worst thing is that he really would have done it if that guy had touched Randy again.

He has seen it come. A drunken Randy has always been a trouble magnet and it seems that his friend does his best to keep the tradition up.

"You're perfect in picking the wrong girls, Ortz," John mutters as he walks at Randy's side along the corridors of the hotel, carefully watching him in case that he does a dive to the floor.

The scowl on the other man's face doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"She hit on me," Randy slurs.

John huffs.

"Yeah, she hit on you but she has a boyfriend and you called him a fucker."

This time Randy huffs, although it is more of a belch that comes out.

"He pushed me and called me an asshole," the younger replies defiantly and collides with the wall as his feet decide to do some unnecessary steps to the side.

John is at his side immediately, but Randy manages to get his feet back under control.

"Don't baby me, Cena."

A pitiful attempt to sound biting.

"Then don't give me a reason to baby you," John says and steers Randy to lean against the doorframe as they reach his room. He holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers. "Your keycard, Casanova."

A lot of laborious fumbling in various pockets and dangerous swaying on the edge of the doorframe later, Randy eventually produces the keycard and hands it over to a mildly amused John, who opens the door with a slight shake of his head. As he turns back to Randy he has barely enough time to react as the other man keels over. He gets his arms wrapped around him just in time, stumbling backwards under Randy's weight, but somehow he manages to keep them both standing.

With a heavy sigh and another shake of his head he shifts his hold on him and begins to steer him to the bed. He feels more than he sees a sudden change in his friend's mood, notices how he tries to free himself of John's hands.

"Don't…"

John barely hears the mumbled word. Deciding to ignore it, he keeps his hands on Randy to steady him on his way to the bed.

"Don't touch me."

"Come on Ortz, don't be childish. I'm just trying to prevent you from a trip to the floor," he huffs and shakes his head lightly. "You really need to sleep, man."

In a blink John finds himself with his back against the wall, feels fingers digging into his shoulders. Randy stands close and his grey eyes aren't dazed like they have been on their way to this room, but sharp, piercing right through him, through his soul. Then he leans even closer and John watches in fascination as the grey morphs to only a thin ring as pupils dilate, as those eyes darken. John can't move and he's not sure if he… if he _wants_ to move…

"I said don't touch me…" the younger man breathes, the alcohol heavy in his breath.

The tension humming between them is almost graspable and John is sure he can _hear_ it. Or maybe it is his own blood, buzzing in his ears because his heart has begun to pound hard in his chest. It has happened before… when Randy has been close like this. The other kind of close than usually. And every time he has tried to tell himself it was because of odd circumstances or whatever.

Breathing suddenly becomes difficult as he keeps staring into Randy's eyes, a certain lightheadedness takes a hold on him while he does and maybe it is because he's a bit drunk, too… or maybe it is because Randy is… intoxicating. He only realizes that he can move again as his hands reach out to the other man, finding a place on his waist.

"Why?" he whispers, splaying his fingers… feeling the warmth under his touch. "What's wrong, Ran?"

Those enthralling eyes close at this and the breath that passes his friend's lips is shuddering. The hold on his shoulders loosens… the hands slowly trailing up to rest in the crook of his neck and the touch is so… so… _infinitely_ _tender_… that his heart stumbles. He suppresses a heavy shiver that becomes a waves of goosebumps, running all over his body.

And then Randy's hands drop to the ones resting on his waist as he inches forward until their chests touch, trapping John between him and the wall. There is a touch on John's temple and he realizes that his friend is resting his cheek against the side of his head. And he could swear he can feel Randy's heart beat as hard as his own.

"I… I don't know," Randy whispers very close to his ear and the warm breath fanning over the skin of John's skin sends another wave of goosebumps over the older man's body. "Johnny…"

John's fingers dig in the other man's sides, whether to push him away to to keep him close he's not sure and he has no idea what it is he wants to say, but there are words stuck in his throat. They just won't leave his lips. For the briefest of moments he feels Randy press against him impossibly close, feels a delicate brush of fingertips on his arms… and lips on his cheek…before the younger man moves away from him.

"You should go to Nikki. She's waiting for you."

The statement is forced out and Randy turns his back to him, walks over to the bathroom without waiting for a reaction. Indecisive if it is a good idea to follow, John just stares after him. But it doesn't take him even half a minute until his feet carry him over to the bathroom, because he can't go like this and when he steps in, he finds Randy bracing on the counter with his head bowed. His shirt lies in the middle of the room and the tanned, inked skin is shimmering softly in the light.

It has become a habit, a ritual, to touch his friend to give comfort and that is why his hand already reaches to do it, but he freezes when he sees his friend flinch.

"Please, John, don't… I…" A bitter chuckle drops from his lips. "Just go, okay? Go to to her."

John's hand drops to his side as his eyes roam the tense shoulders, the contradiction between the way Randy has tried to get closer to him and the words he is saying now unsettling him deeply.

"You don't _really_ expect me to leave you alone now, do you?" he says quietly and takes a step closer. "You know I can't do that."

_I don't want to._

"Fuck, why can't you just for once do what you're asked for?" Rand snaps but it's desperate. "I need to be on my own, okay? I… I can't stand having you close right now. Just go!"

The desperation in the low voice reaches an alarming level, but the words are like a slap to John's face and he tries to fend the hurt off they are causing. He doesn't really mean it. He's not himself. It's what he tells himself as he gingerly moves backwards. It scares him to see him like that. And it scares him to leave him alone…

"Okay, if that's what you really want?" he whispers, flinching at the _yeah_ the other man rasps. "Listen, I'm gonna keep my cell close the whole night. Call me if you need something… or someone to talk. Okay?"

No reaction.

"Okay?" he repeats a bit more insistently and eventually Randy gives the tiniest of nods.

He leaves and he wills his feet to move, because his whole body screams to stay. The tiny hope he harbors that Randy might call him back dies a little more with every step he comes closer to the door and when that door falls close behind him there is nothing left of it. Still he waits, standing frozen in the corridor. A minute. Two.

Eventually he makes his way back to Nikki, feeling for his cell in his pocket. This has been the last time they don't room together, John vows himself. By the moment he steps into the elevator his fingers are tightly curled around the small device. Nikki is patiently waiting for him at their table in the bar and it doesn't take long until he feels guilty, because he can't appreciate her efforts to distract him. Not even when he has her backed up against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist, moaning his name… His mind is fixed on his cell, lying on the bedside table and his heart, it is unsettled by the way Randy has behaved. It is her face that he sees, her pretty eyes closed in bliss.

But it's Randy's unique scent that lingers in his nose, like a fragrant memory.

It's almost morning when he can't bear the lying wide awake in bed any longer, the staring into the darkness of the room. The waiting for the his goddamn cell to ring. He get's up and in the scarce light which falls through the blinds he can see her watch him as he throws on his clothes.

She doesn't say a word but he sees her nod at his whispered apology.

His pace quickens as he gets closer to Randy's room and while he's still thinking of a way of talking him into letting him stay, his fingers find something in his pocket as he stores his cell away.

It is the keycard to Randy's room. Almost like an omen..

Randy lies curled to a ball on the bed as he slips into the room. The door closes with a quiet click behind him and he waits to be sent away again. But the younger man doesn't, only switches the small lamp on the bedside table off and turns his back towards John. And although it is not quite an invitation, it calms John's inner turmoil a little.

Slowly he moves over to the bed, climbs onto it very hesitantly. Not because he expects Randy to push him away bodily but…

_I can't stand having you close right now._

Words which are sharp enough to cut deep…

His hands touch the pillow and he feels a dampness were Randy has hidden his face in it before and it creates an ache in his chest. As he lies down behind Randy, his heart begins to run in his chest as the memory of their little… encounter… invades his mind. For a minute or two John just stays like this, lying behind him with a few hands-breadth space between them and he watches slight shivers run through the younger man. It's now that he notices how cool it is in here. Fishing for the duvet he pulls it up, takes a deep and quiet breath and inches closer, pulling the fabric over them both. He leaves a bit of space between them, leaving it to Randy to come closer or not.

Long minutes pass. And John is being caught between calming down and fighting against that strange feeling the closer kind of closeness to this man causes in him. He wants to reach out and touch him…

"I'm sorry…"

It's barely a whisper but loud in the quiet room, tugging at John's still running heart.

"I know," he whispers back. "Don't worry, 's okay."

And finally… Randy closes the small gap, scooting backwards until his back presses against John's chest and there is a sigh as the older man wraps an arm around him, holding him close. Reluctant fingers slip between John's and with a shuddering breath the body in his arm tries to get even closer.

It is back, that strange feeling, intensive, addictive, flooding him and the part that keeps questioning this new closeness, it falls silent, surrenders to the rest of his being... that craves for more…


	15. 14th advent

Now, my dear **Alonia187**, this one is your door :3

* * *

**14th advent**

**… car wash ...**

* * *

Friendly bantering. With Randy. God, how he loved it… Being playful and lighthearted, pure easiness under a bright and golden sun. Perfect.

He grins while he peels out of his tee, letting the sunshine rain down on him. The day is even more perfect because Randy has agreed to help him wash some of his cars. His eyes snap over to his friend who is busy on the other side of the car, completely absorbed in carefully washing it. The thoroughly executed task is interrupted though as John grabs one of the many sponges which are scattered all around said car, wets it and… throws it at the other man. The rich splash it produces as it hits Randy in the middle of his chest makes him want to grin harder, but he quickly looks down, continuing with his own task. The glare he receives doesn't go unnoticed by him, but except of that glare nothing happens.

It doesn't take long until Randy turns his back towards him, probably to wash his sponge out. Too tempting. John aims, grins hard and throws. The wet little thing lands neatly in Randy's nape. Shoulders tense and he's sure there is a low growl hanging in the air.

"Careful Cena, or I'll wipe those dimples right off your face," Randy threatens as he turns around but John doesn't buy it, because those grey eyes tell him another story.

The dimples though _are_ wiped off his face, without Randy laying a finger on him. It only takes a second… His grin fades as Randy pulls his wet tee over his head, tossing it aside, revealing…

John blinks.

The tan of Randy's skin seems to be even richer in the bright sunlight and the slight wetness on it glistens as muscles stretch and flex. And something stirs in the depths of John's chest as he stares at the sight…

Somehow he manages to shake himself out of it just when Randy looks back at him and he ducks behind the car to escape his gaze. Brushing his hands through his face he heaves a quiet sigh.

_What the fuck?_ he thinks.

There is not really time to wonder about what has just happened. From the corner of his eye he notices a pair of feet slowly approaching him and there is a water hose dragged along. Very slowly he looks up and the smile he finds on Randy's face is a tad too smug for his taste as he aims at him with the water hose.

"You wouldn't dare, Orton."

The answer is immediate. The cold water hits him, freezes him to the spot. But only for a moment. Through the sound of the running water he hears a laughter that is cut off as he jumps up to tackle the other man and the surprised yelp he draws from him brings the grin back to his face.

Laughter and curses mingle into the wet sounds of the soaked lawn as they roll on it, fighting for dominance. Within seconds they are completely drenched, the bare skin slick from the water.

Only a few moments later he has a struggling, writhing Randy lying under him, holding his hands pinned down above his head and he wants to tease him for it but… the words die on his tongue as Randy suddenly stills under him.

For a long moment all he can do is look at him as he tries hard to keep on breathing while his whole being narrows on the man lying under him. On the way he breathes, fast and shallow. The way his lips twitch or his brows furrow ever so slightly over uncertain eyes. On the fine trembling that runs through Randy.

But under the uncertainty he sees something else… and it's drawing him in…

His eyes roam the handsome features, pausing as they reach Randy's lips… only to seek those eyes again which so often before have made him forget about everything around them. Just like now… Hesitantly he settles down on the body beneath him and his heart begins to pound hard against his chest. Maybe even hard enough for Randy to feel it. He doesn't care… All he wants is to get lost in those grey depths…

He can feel the trembling now and his body remembers the warmth as their skin touches. A tingling runs down his spine as Randy breathes his name, hooks a leg behind his and the expression on Randy's face changes, the uncertainty giving way to something raw and begging.

More. Every fiber in his body demands _more_.

One of his hands wanders down a heavily inked arm, his fingertips trailing over the slick skin while his other hand moves up to entwine their fingers.

It steals his breath as he feels a soft touch on the small of his back, pulling him closer and with a helpless little sound on his lips he leans down, resting his forehead against Randy's…

_More…_

"What's that supposed to be? A soft porn?"

Nikki's voice makes him freeze, makes Randy tense up under him. John forces himself to look up to her, even manages a grin and finds her standing there with a crooked smile on her lips and a quirked eyebrow.

"When you're done with making out, you should come in. Dinner's waiting."

She leaves. Blue finds grey again and the confusion, the uncertainty and the heavy and warm _something_ John feels mirrors in them.

"I should go," Randy mutters and averts his gaze, tries to inch out from under him, but the moment the younger man moves his fingers tighten their hold on him on their own accord. "John, I…"

"Don't…" John says quietly. "I don't want you to go."

For a brief moment Randy closes his eyes, sighs John's name and faint helplessness is tingeing the single word.

"_Please_," John whispers almost pleading as he lets go of Randy, his fingers trailing over the smooth skin in a caress as he slowly moves away from him.

He tries hard to ignore the urge to lean back in and touch him again and although the sun is still shining down on them, he suddenly feels oddly cold. And this, all this is in so many ways wrong yet right that John barely knows how to cope with it. And himself.

Silently he watches Randy back off, get up and grab his shirt, watches him toss it away again because it is dripping wet, just as the shorts he's wearing. He looks forlorn as he stands there, with his eyes closed and his head bowed. John bends down to the water hose, turning the water off and as he straightens up again, he finds the other man gaze at him with an unreadable expression.

"Let's go in. I've got some dry clothes for you. And… Nikki's waiting," he says and his words sound so very out of place to his own ears.

It is Nikki who talks practically all the time during the dinner, maybe because she doesn't notice anything or because she does and wants to lighten the mood. John doesn't know and a part of him feels bad because he also doesn't _care_ when he should. In the end she is his girl. But his thoughts are somewhere else. Just like Randy's. The absentminded glances they exchange go unnoticed by her. At least John guesses so.

The thing is… the mood in the room isn't really bad. It's more… cautious. Guarded. Confused. And it leaves a soft but constant tingling in John's chest.

He isn't surprised that right after finishing dinner Randy gets up, says he has to go. He doesn't want him to go but he also knows it's a vain attempt to talk him into staying a while longer. John follows him quietly on their way to the front door.

Randy hesitates when they get there and it seems that he wants to say something, but all that leaves his lips is a equally hesitant _bye_. And John _knows_ that it isn't what he wanted to say.

A hand on his belly stops Randy as he wants to turn around to leave. He obeys, holds his breath as John steps into his view and the hand trails up, coming to rest right above the other man's heart. John can feel it beat fiercely against his palm and his own heart falls into step. It seems like it takes all of Randy's willpower not to avert his eyes as John meets his gaze, inquiring, questioning, trying to figure that _something_ or maybe… them… out. He isn't sure what it is his confused mind hopes to find there. Or maybe… what his heart _wants_ to find there.

In the depths of those so well-known grey orbs there is a glint that draws him in and he takes a hesitant step closer. He wants to say something but like so often before the words fail him. Faintly he hears Nikki call for him from the living room, asking if everything is okay. His answer is a _yes_ but he isn't sure if it isn't a lie.

His fingers curl into Randy's shirt, gently pulling him closer to… he doesn't know. _He doesn't_ _know._ A hand comes up, settling on his.

"You should go back to her, Johnny," Randy says quietly as he gently peels John's hand off his shirt, a sad expression misting the beautiful eyes.

John feels the fabric slip out of his hold, feels Randy's fingers brush over his skin in a tender caress that makes his hear trip before the shadow of a smile, as sad as those eyes, shows up on the handsome face. And then Randy is gone.

For long seconds John stares at the close door, before he lays a hand on it and closes his eyes and the sigh that passes his lips wears a name it shouldn't...

_Randy..._


	16. 15th advent

And this one is for** Vindictive John Dark Fantasy.**

* * *

**15th advent**

**… vivid …**

* * *

The sound of a cell dancing on a table disturbs the quietness which fills the house. It calls for him for the sixth time within the past hour. John ignores it. He has the day off, has no appointments and no interest in any kind of company. His thumb smoothes over the dog-tags in his hand as he stares blankly into the room, feeling the small bumps in the metal, every single one of them being part of a name. The name of every member of his family.

He has never told Randy, never showed it to him… that his name is there, too. A symbol of how much this man means to him. A silent way to admit it, but a safe one.

Absentmindedly he drops his gaze to the tags and his eyes find the one name immediately. The small letters shimmer softly in the light, bringing a faint smile to his lips. More than a decade of… He shakes his head, laughs quietly. He has no idea how to name it. All those years he used to call it friendship, but now he isn't sure if this is the right word to describe it. Not anymore.

That unique easiness between them has become a rare thing lately… Not because they have issues, no. It's just… Randy is his best friend and they share so much. No scrap that, they share pretty much everything and there is practically nothing left from their own little private bubble people use to have.

And he… loves it. He loves having Randy so close.

But lately it's like he can't trust himself anymore in those moments when they are… closer. Like a few days ago, when Randy has come by to help him wash some of his cars. A sigh drops from John's lips as he closes his eyes and leans back against the backrest of the couch, resting his head against it. His fingers curl tightly around the dog-tags.

Those moments… his brain shuts down in those moments and all he can do is surrender to his senses, his feelings which take control of him. He can't fight it and the worst thing is… that he doesn't _want_ to fight it. But he knows he _should_. He _needs_ to. He's not even sure if he's only reacting to Randy or if Randy is reacting to him.

And he has no idea where this odd attraction to a man, to his best friend, has come from. It was suddenly there, pulling the rug out from under him.

He can't be with him, yet he can't be without him. But he is never without him anyway. Somehow Randy is always there… He can _feel_ him. The memory of how it has felt to hold him in his arms, how his skin has felt to John's touch. And those eyes. Every time John closes his eyes, he sees them. The longing to touch him, to be touched by those gentle fingers…

His free hand curls to a fist as his heart begins to beat wildly in his chest and he's willing it to calm down but he fails. And there is a tingling warmth which is coiling up in his chest, growing, spreading throughout him and it's unsettling and calming at the same time.

"Fuck…" John whispers desperately.

He wants to flee and hide, from the whole situation. And himself.

They haven't talked ever since the last time it happened and John wonders how Randy is coping with what has happened. Yesterday at the company he has seen him walk along the corridor but he didn't go over to him. His friend looked absentmindedly, forlorn and when he noticed him staring, Randy gave him a smile. And it was a sad one. There has been the same sadness in his eyes. And guilt, uncertainty, confusion…

He wanted to go to him, comfort him and it has almost torn him apart that he couldn't.

The sound of a door being opened cuts into his thoughts. His fingers tighten their hold on the dog-tags as he hears light steps approach him. He knows what is about to come and it won't make the day any more pleasant.

The steps stop beside him and for a moment a leaden silence settles over the room. Slowly he opens his eyes, finding Nikki standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and a hurt expression on her face.

He never wanted to hurt her but he does, much too often.

"Six calls, John. You're ignoring me and I want to know why," she says and he notices how her voice trembles.

Here we go, he has done it again.

"I'm not ignoring you, Nikki," he replies quietly, apologetic. "I just… needed some time on my own. I didn't even know it was you, my cell is somewhere in the hall."

Almost as if she wants a proof she gazes over to the hall, tightens her lips to a thin line and huffs, shaking her head. She brushes a hand over her forehead then and sits down on the couch beside him, her eyes seeking his and there is a determination lying in them which tells John that this could end ugly.

"We need to talk," she says with the same determination in her voice. "About you and Randy."

His heart drops. Not that he hasn't expected this to come sooner or later, but now is a thinkably bad moment for this conversation. She keeps looking at him and since he has no idea what to say, he just waits.

"John, I… I know you two are close but…" she trails off as if she isn't sure how to say what is on her mind, but she doesn't need to.

John knows what she means, only that he has no idea how to explain something he doesn't understand himself.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" she asks then and once again her voice is trembling.

_Yes_.

"I don't know what you're getting at," he says instead and tries to keep his voice neutral, while a small voice in the back of his head screams _liar_. "It was just a little brawl because I threw wet sponges on him. Just a bit of fun."

"You touched him and he touched you, John, and it didn't look like just a bit of fun to me."

He shrugs his shoulders, still trying hard to keep appearances up.

"We touch frequently, so what?"

She doesn't buy it. It's written all over her face. And why should she, he doesn't buy it himself. For a brief moment her gaze drops to the floor and a small frown shows up on her pretty face, before he looks back up to him.

"Do you love me?"

It's a very obviously a test question but an easy one to answer. He gives her an honest smile, because it is an honest answer.

"Yeah, I love you."

The words leave his mouth without hesitation, because he does love her. Really. And then she smiles, too, scooting over to him and with a sigh she takes his hand and wraps his arm around her shoulders. With another sigh she nestles her face against his neck… and never sees how the smile on his lips fades.

He loves her and he wants to hold on to that like an anchor, to get over that ridiculous crush on his best friend.

He loves her. He _loves_ her.

_But how much do you love her? _asks the small voice in the back of his head.

With a touch more out of habit than anything else he begins to trail his fingertips up and down her arm, hears her sigh once more as she presses close to him. His mind takes in her warmth, her soft skin, her scent. Familiar.

Only… that there is nothing. He can't feel _it_. That intoxicating, addictive _it_ that makes him forget about everything. The one he feels when he's close to _him_. And John has no words for how much he _wants_ him to be here now. He wants it so much that it makes his heart ache…

_Don't go there_, he warns himself but it's already too late.

The fingers holding the dog-tags tighten their hold even more and it's a stinging pain in his palm that makes him flinch. He opens his hand and there is blood on his palm where the tags have cut into his skin. Faintly he hears Nikki say something, feels her slip out of his embrace. With hesitation he takes the tags out if his hand and stares at his palm. There are imprints from the names on the tags.

And _his _name. Imprinted in his skin.

John almost laughs at the absurdity.

Only a moment later Nikki is back and she murmurs soothing words as she takes care of his hand with loving and tender touches, breathing kisses to the unharmed skin. She looks up to him, keeps talking to him with worry in her beautiful brown eyes and then she leans in, kissing him. And while his lips respond to her kiss like… a habit… his fingers curl to a loose fist… as if to keep those letters there.

He loves her, he really does.

But his heart… it whispers a different name…


	17. 16th advent

Hey hi, **shirozero, **do me the favor and open this door ;D

* * *

**16th advent **

**… need …**

* * *

Almost two weeks now. It's killing him. It's fucking tearing him apart, but he has to do it. He needs to keep distance to John because if not… it'll destroy everything. John's relationship with Nikki, their careers and… their friendship. He can't risk that. He can't risk that his own incapability of pulling himself together ruins John's life. And… he can't lose him. There mere thought of losing this friendship chokes him. His heart stumbles in a panic which has become an always present one, smoldering in his chest. Always ready to flame up.

His hand rests on the door handle of his locker room and dipping his head back, he takes a deep breath. Ten minutes left until his match starts. He knows John is somewhere out there and he hopes to see him, yet he is afraid of seeing him at the same time. It's a battle he's fighting lately every time John is somewhere around.

Ever since that afternoon two weeks ago at John's place it has become… worse. In the beginning, as this… crush… made itself known, he only felt those confusing feelings every once in a while, when they were very close but now it has become a constant _need_ for John. A need to see him, to hear his voice, touch him and be touched by those hands he knows are so very gentle. To have him close whenever possible. But it _isn't_ possible. He can't allow it… Maybe someday they can go back to their carefree, easy, perfect friendship they once have shared.

God, how he misses it. And John. He has no words for _how much_ _he misses him_…

He wonders if John blames him for all this, for making him act like he has done. Touch a man like… like… Randy wipes his free hand down his face and sighs, but what leaves his lips is a sob. It seems like John is trying to keep distance, too. Is he doing it because he's pissed? Disgusted? Afraid? But his _eyes_… sad. John always looks at him sad.

Another sob breaches the quietness of the room. Never before in his life has he felt so confused…

Grey eyes slip close and he sees them. Blue eyes, softly gleaming with undisguised affection. And with it comes the memory of John's unique scent and the feeling of soft skin against his palm, of strong yet gentle hands touching him and… he's back at that afternoon. He feels John's body against his own and his fingers trailing down his arm… feels the hand on his belly, his chest, holding him back as he wants to go…

Heat curls up in his chest and his heart rate spikes for a brief moment and his body, his soul screams for… John.

"No," Randy breathes desperately.

It takes Randy a full minute to calm down enough to go out there. The door opens under his hand and he steps out, bracing for what waits for him outside. His eyes scan the corridors as he walks along them, making his way through the business towards the gorilla position.

John stands there as he rounds the corner and he doesn't notice Randy. A smile is on his lips as he waits for Nikki who is just coming back from her match and Randy stops dead, watches as she walks straight into his arms. It pierces right through his heart and for a moment he can't breathe. She stretches up and steals a kiss and when they turn and leave, John sees him. Blue locks with grey and the fleeting expression of deepest sadness, the same one Randy carries in his heart, crosses the older man's features.

And then he's gone, leaving Randy behind. Aching, desperate. But it is how it should be. John is with his girl. It is what Randy has wanted.

A voice shakes him out of his misery, tells him he has to go out and he does, his mind switching to autopilot. He does his job out there but it feels to him like being in a trance. He hears the crowd yet it isn't more than just a faint background noise, moves like reeling a choreography. He barely feels the pain as he collides with the ring stairs. A pin follows. He wins. It all… it feels like his mind is being detached from his body. And then his feet carry him back up the ramp and his mind and body become one again.

Randy hurts but there won't be a soothing touch waiting for him, no comforting words. No arms to make him feel better. And no shoulder to lean on, to hide against. With every step he gets closer to the backstage area the pain in his side becomes more until it is so bright-hot that he can barely walk straight.

But the pain in his heart, it is worse…

His eyes are fixed on the floor as he passes the gorilla position and all he wants is to get back to his locker room and then back home to hide, but after a few more meters his feet stop and he closes his eyes, trying to breathe against the pain.

And suddenly… there is a gentle touch on his sore side, easing the pain. He _knows_ that touch and it makes him want to cry because he has missed it. So very much… He barely dares to open his eyes because he's afraid that once they're open John isn't there, that the touch on his side is only imagination. But he finds worried baby blues looking at him and all he wants is to drown in them. An arm circles his neck, pulling him in and he let's himself fall. He doesn't care that there are a dozen of people around them and this very moment he also doesn't care that sending the other man away would be the right thing to do. With a shuddering sigh he hides his face against a broad shoulder, buries his fingers in his friend's shirt and savors the feeling as John murmurs his name, the low voice washing over him like a warm wave of all kinds of good.

For a long moment they stay like this and Randy wishes the world would just stop turning. Forever.

"You shouldn't be here," Randy whispers eventually and the words burn on his tongue, but his friend hushes him.

"Come on, let's get you checked up and then I'm gonna give you a ride home," John says softly and the voice of reason somewhere in Randy's tired mind demands to send him away, but… he can't.

_He needs him…_

It's about two hours later when that nagging voice has become very quiet. He lies in his bed, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders and the exhaustion which has built up over the past days wears down heavy on him but he fights it, doesn't want to give into it. Not now, not so soon… Not when John his here with him.

Randy's head lies on John's outstretched arm and his back is pressed against the broad chest. The older man's other hand has found his sore side once more, soothing the pain there. His mind has narrowed on John's presence which wraps around him like a cocoon. His scent, his warmth, his broad frame molded against his body. His breathing… even his heartbeat. Unconsciously he turns his face a bit more against the thick biceps and feels his friend shift, feels him inch a bit closer and it calms him even more. And the panic he has been feeling the whole time has quietened, too, because there isn't that strange tension between them. If it is because he's too exhausted or because of another reason, he couldn't have cared less. The only important thing is that _John is here_.

With a sigh Randy moves his hand up, hesitantly pressing its back into the broad palm and John's fingers slip between his, entwining their fingers in a firm hold. A kiss is breathed against his hair, along with the promise that he's not gonna be alone when he wakes up.

The ache in Randy's heart, it fades. And for the first time in days he feels… peace...


	18. 17th advent

Dedicated to **shlryn4** :) *hands key*

* * *

**17th advent**

**… glances …**

* * *

Stealing glances like a pubescent twelve year old. It's ridiculous, yet he can't help it. His eyes roam over a well-toned body, take in how the muscles flex under a tanned, smooth skin and a thin sheen of sweat highlights the pleasing sight.

He wrenches his eyes away just before he's caught staring and shaking his head slightly as if to shake the urge to peek off, he continues with his own workout. For a moment the heavy weight he lifts over his head helps him scrape his concentration together and he counts the lifts but he catches himself counting backwards, like a countdown to the next chance to steal a glance…

Fuck, he really needs to focus here if he doesn't want to end up being crushed under the weight.

The barbell is set down and he stretches, shakes his arms to relax the strained muscles and as he hunches down to adjust the weight, he dares a casual look up, scanning the room. But only to find back to the sight that has held him captive ever since he has stepped in here. Oh, it's not that he hasn't seen that amazing body before. He's seen it uncountable times, even naked, has touched it. But…

Blue eyes wander over long and perfectly shaped legs, up to sculptured and forbidden tempting abs and…

Nikki. She smiles brightly at him from the other side of the room, breathes a kiss over to him and at least a part of him is awake enough to reply that smile. But his glances… they reach past her and he knows he shouldn't give into this absurd addiction.

Scrubbing his hand through his face he groans quietly. John Cena, victim of his own confused emotional life. He still has no idea how it could happen without him noticing it soon enough. His eyes close on their own accord as another small groan drops from his lips.

"John?"

John almost jumps out of his skin at the unexpected voice right beside him. His eyes snap open and he finds… Randy. Smiling down at him, holding a hand out to help him up. He takes it and thinks that the tan of Randy's skin against his pale one matches the way they are. Completely different yet together they _feel_ perfect.

The younger man's eyes wear a softness he has seen seldom there lately and John is glad that it is back in the grey orbs, because he has missed it. Very much.

They have never talked about _it_. Not even one word. Over the past weeks that odd tension between them has fallen quieter. They have somehow settled for a silent agreement that allows closeness when there are other people around. When they are alone, they keep a certain distance. Yet they haven't spent much time alone in those weeks anyway. The situation is… safe. John isn't sure if it's the right word, but he has no other way to describe it.

He still wonders though what Randy is thinking about what has happened, what he feels…

Sometimes there is… a whisper… between the lines when they talk and small sparks when they touch. Or a reflexion of _something_ in his friend's eyes and he just can't put his finger on what it is. How to name it.

The softness in those eyes begins to gleam as the other man graces him with that beautiful smile of his. And deep in his chest, John feels a light tugging.

"I could need a hand at the bench press," Randy says, pulling his hand out of John's who does his best to ignore how empty his hand feels. "You know, I want to put some more weight on it and need someone just in case I don't get the last lift done. Got a minute?"

A few moment later John stands at the top of the bench while Randy does the lifts, ready to take some of the weight if necessary. Although his eyes are directed on the barbell, he all too aware notices how his friend's abs twitch as he pushes the weight up, as he breathes… And again he feels a tugging in his chest.

Averting his gaze John steps back a bit as the other man sits up after he's done, dabbing his face dry, rolling his shoulders. And then… John leans forward, bracing his forearms on the barbell… eyes dropping to the beautiful piece of art that spreads over Randy's shoulders. Tilting his head a bit to the side he lets his eyes trail along the lines and when he realizes that his hand moves it's already too late.

His fingertips touch the inked skin with the gentlest of touches, just like he has touched him back then on the lawn, following the trail of his eyes and Randy… stills. Wether he's surprised, shocked or… whatever… John doesn't know but he's very much aware that it would be the best to simply stop touching the other man. But he can't.

"You gonna get another tattoo done?"

Gosh, what a pitiful attempt to save the moment. Randy's hands sink to his thighs, his fingers gripping the towel he's holding tightly and his head dips a bit forward. It is now that John notices that his friend's breathing has become a little faster.

"I don't know," Randy eventually replies and the low voice it very quiet as he speaks.

And then he turns around, hesitantly, as if he's thinking about just getting up to leave without another word. He doesn't. But what John finds in his eyes makes his insides churn. The desperation, the sadness, the forlorn expression, they are back and the intensity with which they hit him knocks the breath right out of him.

"I guess it's been enough for today," Randy adds a bit unsteady as he gets up and with a smile that never reaches his eyes he gives him a curt nod and leaves.

John closes his eyes and tries hard to remember how to breathe. He should have known the safeness of the situation is frail. And maybe… he has just touched the wrong spot on it. And cracked it.

It's that thought that keeps him company for the rest of the day, just like the look in Randy's eyes and the feeling of his skin. It is there when he sits in his living room much later, when Nikki takes his hand, leading him up to the bedroom. And when he has her writhing under him… it is still there. He touches her… and touches him. He breathes her scent… and it's his scent that fills his nostrils. And because it's all too much, he stops, whispers apology after apology and he hears her telling him that it's okay.

But it is not.

Whispering a last apology he flees to the bathroom, locks the door and hides under the shower, bracing his arms against the tiled wall. Dipping his head forward he lets the hot water rain down on him...

His harsh breaths drown in the sound of the falling water as his hand closes around his cock, beginning a steady movement that increases slowly. His eyes close and he sees him. _Feels_ him. It doesn't take long until he reaches the peak of his lust and the name he breathes while he cums is washed away by the still falling water.

Just like the tears which have never been supposed to fall...


	19. 18th advent

This door opens **for all my silent readers**.

Now this one is a different view and I hope that I somehow managed to make the whole thing work in this chapter.

Anyway, thank you, my dearest BrightAsNight, for putting the idea into my head ;D

* * *

**18th advent**

**… gold in your hand, stars in your eyes …**

* * *

He paces up and down. Up and down. For at least half an hour now. Up and down. Totally lost in his thoughts, focused on his upcoming match. Not one single word has left his mouth since he has started pacing around like a nervous dog watching the cat in the garden. And he is exactly that. Nervous.

Up and down.

It is nerve-wracking… to see him like this. For a moment he stops, only to dip his head back, exhaling a heavy sigh and it's the moment she can't stand it anymore and she gets up from the bench she has been sitting on the whole time while watching his endless, silent march about the room. He only notices her standing beside him when she puts a hand on his arm, whispers his name.

"You need to calm down, babe," she murmurs and gently leads him to the bench, straddling his lap as he sits down with another heavy sigh.

Her delicate hands frame his face and a kiss is placed on his lips, his nose and a third one is breathed to his forehead, before he hides his face against her neck with her name on his lips. Strong arms circle her waist and in response she wraps and arm around his neck, cradles his head in her hand.

God, how she loves him. Has for so long now, even when he had still been married and it was loving from afar back then, savoring every minute they have been spending together, talking or just sitting at the same table. He's perfect, she thinks. He's all she wants from a man. Strong, intelligent, funny, reliable, gentle… A smile graces her lips because she could keep this up forever.

But that smile leaves her lips as fast as it has come as he feels him pull her tighter against his chest, sighing for the umpteenth time and she can hear in it that all he wants it to hide somewhere.

It shakes her to her very core to see his self-confidence slip with every passing minute, as if he's thinking he could lose out there. But it is all scripted. All this, it is only a storyline with a predetermined end. Sure, every time one of them steps into the ring things can go wrong and in a way it's always a fight out there, but it's never _really_ a _fight_.

John knows that when he goes out there in a few minutes, he's gonna come back as the winner. Yet… for him it _has_ become a fight that it _shouldn't be_ for him.

The past two years have worn him out. All the trouble with his ex-wife, a storyline that has made 2012 the worst year of his career. Injuries, more appointments than a single person can handle and what probably kills him most is exactly what he tries to laugh off. His weapon against those _Cena_ _sucks_ chants is a smile and he stubbornly keeps his way up although a big part of the audience started to dislike him a while ago already. She knows he's hurting even if he never says a word.

And it hurts her to see him like this and it hurts her even more not to be able to alleviate his sorrow.

Resting her cheek against the blond hair she closes her eyes, feeling the tension that holds him captive, like a hum vibrating through him and through her. It was hard to admit that there _is_ someone who could ease his sorrow, that this one person is not her but… Randy. But Randy is not here.

Ever since she and John have become an item, she has witnessed a connection between the two man that is as amazing as it is unsettling. She has no idea how often she has been sitting alone, thinking about it. Best friends, that's what the relationship John and Randy have is called. Or better, it's what they call it. She, too, has best friends but she's not sharing such a… closeness… with them. Is it the right word? Closeness?

Whatever it is, it leaves her jealous of that whatever it is between them… and of Randy...

The door opens and says that it's time. She slips from his lap and John stands up, pulling her in for a kiss, a soft but absentmindedly one and even in that kiss she feels the tension and the nervousness. And because it shouldn't be like this, she stretches up and kisses him as softly, once, twice and a third time, until she finds the shadow of a smile on his lips and in his so beautiful blue eyes.

She holds on to his hand as they walk towards the gorilla position… or maybe he holds on to hers… and when they get there, she steals another kiss and whispers how much she loves him. And then he leaves, but before he steps out into the arena he turns around for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. Sadness washes over his features and she knows the reason. And then he's gone.

Nikki waits a moment, listening to John's music and the reaction of the audience, waits a bit longer until the match starts, before she leaves, too, finding her way to the room with the TV. Because she knows Randy is there.

Randy's eyes are fixed on the TV as she gets there and he's much too absorbed in watching John on the screen to notice that she's there, standing in the doorway. He sits leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs, fingers loosely intertwined and with an achingly soft and affectionate expression in his eyes. It's the same she has seen so often in John's eyes… when he's watching Randy.

It's the whole way John and Randy interact with each other. The the looks they share, the frequent touching and most of all the way they touch the other… There have been moments when it seemed like… Nikki blinks. No, that's silly… yet… The strangest of those moments has been when she found them lying on the lawn… with John lying on Randy and… She blinks again. Those touches…

_We're touching frequently, so what?_

John's words, but still…

She wonders what has happened after that day, because ever since the two men seem to keep a certain distance and she wonders why they do that. It's obvious that both of them don't feel good by doing so. She even dares to say that John suffers, because the whole situation affects him deeply and she's not the one who can help him. Again.

With a hiss Randy leans back in his chair, subconsciously laying a hand on his left upper arm and when Nikki glances over to the TV, she sees Alberto straining John's still healing arm in an armbar. Not much later John manages to free his arm and that very moment she notices the other man lean forward again with a whispered _yes_ as he resumes his earlier position. Funny, now that she thinks about it, Randy's reactions are immediate to what happens to John. As if he's _living_ the match with John. Just as John lives the matches with Randy.

There are times when it feels like she's losing John to Randy and it scares her, very much, and in a way she hates Randy for it. It's not even his fault. He doesn't try to take him away from her. And maybe she'll regret what she's going to do now but she loves John and she wants to see him smile again. A real smile.

"He's been waiting for you," Nikki says quietly but it's enough to make Randy flinch.

The loosely intertwined fingers curl to a tight grip, the grey eyes though stay fixed on the TV. It takes a moment in which Randy seems to be trying to find his voice.

Then: "Did he say that?"

His voice sounds sad and there is nothing left of the softness she has seen on his face. And it makes her wonder even more what has happened between them.

"Does he need to?" she asks and sees lips being tightened to a thin line, sees brows being furrowed over sorrowful eyes. After a few seconds she adds: "Tell him I'm gonna wait for him in his locker room."

She doesn't expect a reply and she gets none. The TV shows the pin and John wins, retaining the World Heavyweight Championship. Just as it has been scripted. The last thing she sees before she leaves is the smile returning to Randy's face as he watches John hold the title up.

Not even two minutes later John walks into the backstage area, holding the belt in his hand. The smile he has worn out there dims, giving way to a exhaustion which has been there for days now and Nikki has to pull herself together not to leave her hiding place and go to him. Her eyes flick over to Randy who's waiting on the other side of the room, unnoticed yet by John. The expression she finds on Randy's face… she can't name it. And maybe she doesn't want to know what it is because a part of her whispers that this kind of looking at someone means… more. Slowly he starts walking towards John, hesitantly even, as if he's expecting to be sent away.

And John? Relief. It's relief she finds on his face as he finally notices Randy and underneath that relief there is… the same something that is still written all over Randy's face and she has to avert her eyes because she doesn't want to see it. It shouldn't here there.

When she looks up again, she watches as the belt drops from John's hand, falling forgotten to the floor, and he pulls the other man into a tight hug… and suddenly it it there, that _real_ smile she wanted to see on his face again.

And she can't bear it. Turning away from the sight she goes to John's locker room, trying hard to bite back the tears which are stinging in her eyes.

It is what she has wanted, to see him smile like this again. But it hurts that the reason for this smile… is someone else...


	20. 19th advent

**Now, Blustar711, here comes your second door!**

* * *

**19th advent**

**… memory remains …**

* * *

That call has been unexpected. And it surprised him even more who the caller has been. Nikki. A very much pissed Nikki with bared teeth, as it has sounded through the line. Telling him to pick John up from a bar because he refuses to come home with her.

Because she's not the person he wants to be right now. It's what John must have said in his drunken stupor.

And when the call ended Randy has found himself standing in his kitchen, staring at his cell and… a certain dread has been lingering around him, like some odd aura. That aura is still there while he's standing only a few meters behind John who sits somewhat hunched forward at the bar, head bowed a bit, shoulders tense, arm muscles straining, probably under holding on to a bottle or whatever too tight and although he can't see the other man's face it all speaks of being heavily depressed.

There have been times when he never even would have lost a single thought about going over there or not. He would have just grabbed him and dragged him home. But now…? Things weren't that easy anymore. A drunken John is a very clingy John. At least that's what the past has taught him. But now he is here and he can't let him sit there.

With a silent sigh he walks over to his friend, comes to stand at his side and yes, John looks heavily depressed. And he dares to say that heavily is an understatement. One hand is wrapped around a bottle, the other clenched to a fist and the glassy gaze fixed on a point that might be somewhere in the past or future or maybe even somewhere else. Randy isn't sure, but he is sure that John is not here at the moment.

Hesitantly he sits down on the barstool beside him, still unnoticed by the other man. John must be very far away, he thinks. He waits a moment longer before he turns around to face John and puts a careful hand on a clenched fist. The flinch comes with delay, but at least there is some reaction.

"Johnny?" he says as he leans a bit towards him. "John, you with me? Hey…"

John blinks once and something shifts in his eyes, telling Randy he has just come back to the here and now. The glassy blues drop to the hand on his and there is some kind of recognition in them, before they are screwed shut. For a long moment nothing happens and Randy isn't sure what to do, but then he feels John pull his hand out from under his and he does his best to ignore the tiny sting in his chest.

"What are you doing here?" the older man asks and to Randy's surprise he's not slurring.

He should. He looks drunk like a newt. No, scrap that, again an understatement.

"Nikki called and told me where to find you," he explains softly, the way his friend's eyes darken not going unnoticed by him. "Come on, let's go home."

His hand settles on a broad shoulder as he slips from his barstool but John shakes it off.

"I don't want to go home," John mutters and takes a hearty gulp from his beer.

This is gonna be a bad, bad hangover, Randy sighs in his mind and puts his hand back on the shoulder.

"Don't be childish. You're drunk, you're tired and you know I can't let you sit here the whole night. So get your ass up, we're going home."

And again his hand is shaken off.

"Johnny…"

The other man's head snaps around, the mixture of confusion, restraint angriness and pain in the cerulean orbs hitting him like a blow.

"What do you want, _Orton_?" John growles, eyes narrowing to slits. "What _the_ _fuck_ do you want from me?"

Another blow and Randy swallows hard. But he's not willed to go there.

"Stop calling me that," he replies very calmly. "All I want is to take you home and be sure you're okay."

Something shifts in John's expression and suddenly the pain overweights. He turns his face away and hides it in his hands.

"I'm not okay..."

The words are spoken so very quietly that Randy almost misses them. Almost. I can see that, he thinks and wipes his hands down his face, before he lays a bold hand on the broad chest and this time John makes no attempt to get rid of it. He keeps it there until the other man eventually moves, more falling than slipping of the barstool and right into Randy's arms.

"I don't want to go home," John repeats weakly as he leans heavily against him.

Randy has no idea what makes him say it, but he says it nevertheless: "She's not at your place."

The fleeting expression which crosses his friend's face it relief and it shouldn't be there. You shouldn't be relieved that your girl isn't waiting for you, except… With a slight shake of his head he bans that thought and whatever it might bring with and shifts his hold on the broad frame, before he urges John to move his feet.

The ride to John's place is very, very quiet and three times Randy nudges the other man, because he's not sure if he's still breathing. It is a fight to get him out of the car and the way into the house is a struggle, just as it's a struggle to somehow get up the stairs and Randy can't remember having him seen this drunk before. Randy kicks the door to John's bedroom open and as they stumble over the treshhold… the struggling suddenly ends.

For a moment they only stand there because John refuses to move and Randy steps right in front of him to get a better look on his face. Blue eyes lock with his and in them he sees John fight with himself.

"Johnny…?" he murmurs worried as he lifts a hand to cup his face.

And then, just like the struggling… the fight ends suddenly and Randy can see surrender in those baby blues.

He has barely enough time to realizes what happens as John's hands come up to his wrists, closing around them in a tight grip… forcing them away from his face. A shadow casts over the older man's face as he takes a step forward. The hold on Randy's wrists becomes painful as he tries to free his hands without sucess. Another step that forces Randy to moves backwards. The shadow on his friend's face darkens, as do his eyes, those well-known beautiful blue eyes becoming alien, intimidating even.

"John," he rasps as he once again tries to wrench his arms out of the other man's hold, only to gasp in pain as the fingers tighten even more.

"Let go, you're hurting me."

Tighter. Tight enough to leave bruises.

"Please…"

A whisper because he doesn't have the breath to speak aloud. This time as John takes another step forward, he pulls him closer in the process until there is only a mere breath between them. There is a buzzing in his ears and his heart pounds so hard against his chest that it steals his breath. A cold wave of something that he realizes is fear rolls through him and it freezes him to the spot.

He feels a hard push that sends him back onto the bed and John is above him in a blink, pinning him to the mattress with is whole bodyweight while holding his hands down above his head. It's when he feels his legs being forced apart that panic rears, freeing him from the paralysis the fear has left him in. With a breathless shout he arches up against the weight on him, trying to buck the body off, tries to free his arms, to get a knee between them, writhing, fighting… but his attempts are stopped as he feels John grip his wrists with one hand, pressing them down hard while his other hand settles on Randy's chin to hold his head in place…

Randy screws his eyes shut…

A heartbeat… two… and suddenly… his hands are free. And the hold on his chin changes, becomes gentle, a thumb brushing over it softly. There is a touch soothing his abused wrists and a warm breath against his lips.

"I'm sorry…"

The whisper carries the same fear he feels but he still dares not to open his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Ran…"

Maybe it's the use of his pet name, maybe it's the desperation lying in those words that makes him open his eyes eventually, finding wide blue eyes hovering above him and yes, there is fear and desperation, confusion and… guilt.

"Sorry..."

The hand on his chin smoothes up to his cheek, cradling his face ever so tenderly. And Randy tries hard to remeber how to breathe. The buzzing in his ears is gone and his heart has settled for a fast and shallow rhythym. The shadow on John's face is gone, has given way to a pleading, apologetic expression and an undisguised affection and for a second he's not sure if he should use the chance and get away or if he should stay… but be never gets the chance to finish this thought.

With another _sorry_ escaping his mouth John leans in… and kisses him.

His surprised gasp gets lost between their sealed lips. It's a hesitant kiss, asking, begging almost but Randy's hand comes down in a rush to push the body on top of him away because… no… he can't let this happen. John has a girl and fuck, he's drunk and doesn't really know what he'd doing. Whatever causes him do act like he does… John can never really want this.

Randy pushes with all his might while his heart tells him with every beat to pull him closer. His mind demands to stop this, while the rest of his body wants more.

_More._

Turning his head to the side he stiffles a sob that turns to a shuddering moan which is ripped from his throat as John rolls his groin against his. He hasn't even noticed the hardness which was now pressing against him before. And his body… reacts.

"Don't…" he breathes, still pushing against John's chest, still keeping his lips out of his reach.

_More…_

"You're drunk, you don't really want this, John."

A hand blankets his own, the one still lying above his head and John's fingers slip between his in a firm but gentle hold, while the one cupping his cheek begins to wander down his body to the hem of his shirt. A kiss full of affection is placed to his temple… goosebumps flare all over his body…

"Johnny… please don't…"

_More..._

John says his name so infinitely tender that he has to close his eyes for a brief moment and his breath catches as he feels John's hand slip under his shirt, fingers traveling over his abs, mapping, caressing. He's lost. Lost to those touches, to his name like a plea on John's lips… to John. His own hand stops pushing the other man away and finds its way to his nape to pull him in for another kiss.

This is so wrong. And so goddamn right.

Lips and toungues move in a slow dance against each other, hesitant at the beginning, yet becoming bolder, demanding. Possessive. The hardness pressing against him gives him a lightheaded feeling.

With a moan he arches up against the body above him as John scrapes his nails down his side with just the right pressure, leaving a delicious burning in their wake, as he grinds down and Randy can't help but meet him, pressing their groins together for more friction.

For a moment John stills above him, gazing down on him with an expression that makes his heart stumble hard in his chest, before he shifts and tugs his own shirt over his head. Only a second later his hands pulls at Randy's shirt, pulling his over his head. And then John lies back down, his hand finding Randy's again. Naked skin on naked skin, warm and smooth, so wonderful under his touch.

Again lips meet, tongues dance… fingers caress eagerly. Randy hears his name being whispered again, so lovingly that he feels tears rise to his eyes. And he hooks his legs behind John's, meeting him with every rolling of his hips as they settle for a steady grinding. Little moans and groans are torn from their throats and this… this feeling, Randy wants it to never end, wants to drown in it… in John.

It doesn't take long. Heat curls up in his belly as the movements of their hips become harder, faster… and then the heat in him unfurls, floods him and he cums with John's name on his lips, feels John follow…

Minutes pass. Quiet minutes, filled with the sound of slowly calming breathing. Randy knows that John has already drifted off and maybe it is better this way. He doesn't want him to see the tears which run down his face. His arms close tighter around the broad frame, holding him close.

After a few more long minutes he's sure that John's asleep and although he doesn't want to, he crawls out from under him.

It hurts…

Slowly he makes his way to the bathroom, getting a washcloth and a towel and when he comes back he finds his shirt in John's hand, finds his face buried in the fabric and for a brief moment it feels like his heart is being ripped out.

Later he sits beside the bed after he has undressed his friend, cleaned him up and tucked him in. Holding his hand while he sits there. You were drunk, John. I brought you home and tucked you in. And went home. It's was he's going to tell him because he can't tell him the truth. And if John remembers… he doesn't know what'll happen when John remembers this.

The tears are still falling as he sits there, listening to John's breathing, holding his hand like the most prescious thing in the world. Hours pass. It is early morning when Randy eventually gets up from his place beside the bed to go home. John looks peaceful as he sleeps.

Leaning down Randy places a kiss to his forehead, allowing his lips to linger there for a moment, whispering against the soft skin. His words fade into the quietness of the room as he leaves, leaving only a memory behind.

_I love you._


	21. 20th advent

Dedicated to **SoCyD**.

Thanks for the shout-out, girl! XD

* * *

**20th advent**

**… breakdown …**

* * *

The door to Randy's locker is pushed open with enough force that it collides with the wall, the handle leaving a dent there. Randy strides in and he doesn't even bother to close the door, because John is close on his heels and the other man won't stay out anyway. He walks over to his locker and braces his hands against it, bowing his head. He knows what is about to come and he wishes this now wouldn't have to happen, wishes he could turn back the time and make everything undone.

John stops at the threshold for a brief moment, is eyes fixed on the younger man's back... his gaze burning with angriness. He steps in then, grabbing the door and slamming it shut hard enough to make the locker rattle. The metallic sound rips through the room and its echoe fades into the choking quietness which suddenly spreads.

For a full minute nothing happens. It is John's voice that, trembling with restrained rage, eventually cuts though it like a knife.

"You intentionally hurt me out there, Orton. What _the fuck_ is your problem?!" he says and watches as Randy bows his head a bit more.

Tattooed shoulders heave as Randy takes a few deep breaths, partly to calm down, partly to find his voice. He fails to calm down. He doesn't fail to find his voice though and with a glare he slowly turns around, stretching up to his full height as he does.

"My Problem? You, Cena! _You_ are my fucking problem!" he snarls, fingers curling to fists. "It is impossible for you just to go out there and _not_ fight like an insane, is it?!"

There is a sharp stinging and pounding in the shoulder on which John has taken his _issues_ out and he tries to ignore it. He had seen _it_ in John's eyes the moment they had faced each other. The match went as scripted but it doesn't change the fact that it wasn't a match but a _battle_.

"It is my fucking Job!" John growles as he takes a step towards Randy, his fingers, too, curling to fists.

The broad shoulders shake. John is seething and the rage radiates from him in waves, hot enough to burn everything it touches. But Randy doesn't back off. If he gets burned, so be it. Not this time. He's not gonna back off this time, not gonna give in.

"No, John! Your fucking job is to go out there and give the audience a show, not to_ fight for your life!_ I hurt you? Fuck, _you_ hurt _me_ out there and I had to stop you somehow!" he growles back and his voice raises although he tries to keep it levelled.

"Every fight out there is a fight for my life! This job _is_ my life and there's nothing more important than that!"

John's last sentence hangs in the air between them for a few seconds before it is swallowed by a rapidly growing tension which fills the room. A tension that is thick enough to choke, to crush. As true as this sentence is… it is as wrong. They both feel it, but neither of them voices it.

The corners of Randy's mouth twitch while a shadow falls over his eyes and he replies in a deeply hurt voice: "You don't need to fight for your life when you're in the ring with me, John. You _never_ needed to. And you never have. So why tonight?"

John knows Randy is right. And Randy can read it in his eyes but John remains silent and watches how the expression on his friend's face changes to an angry, bitter little smile as Randy steps up to him. It is the very moment he realizes that the younger man _knows_ that he remembers the night… The tension seems to get so thick at the close proximity that it's almost graspable.

"You have no answer to that, huh? Or maybe you _have_, am I right? You have and can't admit the truth. You almost dislocated my shoulder out there, _John_, and you knew it and you fucking didn't stop when I told you to," Randy hisses, stabbing his finger into the broad chest in front of him and he's barely able to contain the white-hot, hurt rage which suddenly boils up.

"Stop pushing me," John grits out through clenched teeth, refusing to admit that he's angry because Randy is right with what he says, not because he's pushing him or because of… anything else.

"Or what, Cena? You gonna hurt me again?" Randy growls as he leans forward, bringing his face close to the older man's.

This all, it shouldn't happen but Randy dares John, because this goddamn agonizing back and forth has to end finally. John doesn't back down. And the time for denying things is over.

"You kissed me and you made me…" John hisses, trailing off because he can't _say it_ but he's holding the other man's gaze.

"No, John, _you_ started it. _You_ kissed _me_ and _you_ touched _me_," Randy hisses back, sick of being the one who tries to save John's relationship with Nikki… and his friendship with John. "I tried to stop you, but _you wouldn't let me_. You can't blame me for giving into you when you were the one who started it."

If possible the rage within John grows, caused by knowing it's the truth and it floods him... but he doesn't want to admit the truth. He _can't_.

"I would never kiss a guy or…" John begins but stops midsentence, clenching his teeth. "I am with Nikki and I was drunk and you… _you_…"

Again he falls silent and sees the angry, bitter smile becoming cold.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that it is my fault if it makes you feel better, _John_, but it doesn't change the facts…"

Something snaps. Maybe John, maybe Randy or maybe it is the tension between them... in the end it is not important. It happens too fast. Only a blink later fists land on faces, stomachs. Bodies collide with walls and lockers.

And then it ends as fast as it has begun.

There is a roar on John's lips as his fist connects a last time with Randy's jaw, sending him to the ground and the second the younger man realizes what is just happening, he finds himself lying face down with one arm stretched out above his head, pinned down to the floor and his other arm pinned behind his back. John's hands grip his still sore wrists in a vice-grip to the point that goes beyond hurting. He feels a knee on his back and the pressure makes it hard to breathe and after a disorientated moment of keeping on fighting John, he goes completely still, because fighting makes no sense anymore. And he doesn't want to anyway. All he wants is this all to end.

John feels the younger man wince as he grips his wrist even harder, sees him close his eyes. Hears him wheeze as he tries to breathe. He wants to scream at Randy to fight, to give him a fucking reason for the devouring rage which still burns brightly in him but the other man doesn't, just lies there in silent surrender. It's desperation which pierces right through his chest because Randy is right. He's right, goddammit and it's not his fucking fault and John knows it. It never has been. And John _knows_ that Randy has tried to stop him, remembers it all too vividly but he didn't _want_ to stop. He wanted Randy.

John bows his head, screws his eyes shut against reality, because… _he still wants him_. Every fiber of his body wants him, needs him, like a drug. His mind, his heart cling to him every single second, minute, hour, every fucking day and it _hurts_ not having him close. But this can't be, he can't allow it...

Faintly he notices Randy's breathing becoming more and more shallow and as he gazes at the man lying beneath him, he finds tense features, furrowed brows… silent tears. He removes his knee from his back, hears him take a deep and shaky breath the second the pressure is gone. Randy's eyes stay close though.

Those beautiful grey eyes…

And suddenly the rage John has felt subsides. Just like that… It falls silent, leaving only a sea of guilt and self-reproach behind. A sea of fear, confusion, longing and of that warm, golden and sparkling feeling that Randy causes in him. The one he can't admit…

With a stifled sob he lets go of Randy's wrists and the arm he has held pinned to the younger man's back slides down to the ground, lying there lifelessly. And Randy still doesn't move, but the tears keep falling.

This is his fault and he never wanted it to happen. It all should never have happened in the first place and it makes John feel so goddamn helpless because he couldn't stop it.

He never wanted to hurt Randy… but his eyes show him the pain on Randy's face and it kills him to see it, to know he's the reason it is there.

This time the sob which passes his lips isn't stifled and he leans down, rests his forehead between the other man's shoulder blades and settles a hand on the sore shoulder, wanting to take the pain away, wishing he could… and he feels Randy flinch at the touch.

_I'm sorry… _

It's what he whispers, over and over again while his fingers splay, still attempting to soothe the pain he has inflicted. But he knows he can't take it away from Randy, neither the one in his shoulder… nor the one in his heart.

_I'm so sorry, Ran…_

His other hand reaches up, blanketing Randy's outstretched one, but there is no reaction as he slips his fingers between Randy's. There is only a fine trembling that takes hold of the younger man's body and his breathing which becomes faster, unsteady. And John wants to gather him in his arms and hold him close, forever.

"I can't…" he says and his voice breaks.

His fingers brush over the soft skin in a tender caress as John backs away, leaving a tingling memory on his fingertips. He gets up and steps back. And Randy still doesn't move. It's now that he notices tears falling from his own eyes but he doesn't bother to wipe them away.

His steps are loud in the room as he slowly walks over to the door, opening it. And then… Randy moves, curling up to a ball and the image burns itself into John's memory. Something deep within him dies. It hurts so much, so very much and he's not sure if it will stop ever again. But it's what he deserves for what he has done.

The door closes with a quiet click. With a shuddering sigh John turns around, placing a hand on the door. His eyes close but the tears won't stop and the words he whispers drown in the bustling activity of the corridor…

_I love you..._


	22. 21st advent

Now,** LegacyChick**, one more door for you ;)

* * *

**21st advent**

**… distance …**

* * *

His feet carry him forward while his mind is somewhere else, lost in his whirling thoughts. Lost in the chaotic feelings which are filling him. It has been like this for the past week. Confused, scared, shocked, hurting, desperate… nothing has changed, has only become worse. And it gets worse every day. He has reached the point of being sure it's never gonna get better again…

The next corner. He rounds it, holding his breath. But _he_ isn't there. It's been like this ever since it has happened. That breakdown in his locker room. He's avoiding him. He's not afraid but… no, not afraid. The exact opposite. Despite everything that has happened, his whole being longs for him.

And he wonders if John feels the same.

They have kept distance since that night, haven't changed even one word. Only glances. Guarded glances. Careful glances. But then, two days ago, the way John looks at him has changed, becoming sad, apologetic and begging. Telling him he wants to talk. But he didn't give him a chance to, because it's still too soon. They still need more time, each for themselves, to stop _it_.

Another corner. His feet stop on their own accord as his gaze catches John, standing there, chatting with Daniel. And Nikki is there, too, clinging to his arm. It is how it should be. But it hurts, so goddamn much. There is a smile on John's lips as he looks down at her, leans in to kiss her. It's when he notices Randy. Their eyes lock and he sees John freeze, just as he does. The smile fades from John's lips and it is there again, that look. The begging, the apology in it. And something else. Determination?

Randy's heart drops to his feet and his guts knot up and once more he wishes this all would just be a bad dream.

Nikki follows John's gaze, finds Randy and he sees angriness there. Why, he has no idea. He has never given her a reason to be angry with him and he doubts that John has told her what has happened. But it's not important anyway. John gently pushes her aside, taking a few steps towards him, but Randy averts his eyes and continues his way.

Faintly he hears his name being called. And he ignores it, wants to escape.

He flees to his locker room, leaning against the door after it has closed behind him and it takes him a full minute until the pain in his chest has subsided enough to move again. Again he flees from reality, falling into a routine as he gets ready for the show.

The quiet sound of a door being opened in a most hesitant way disturbs the quietness. Someone comes in. The door falls shut. And Randy doesn't need to turn around to know who has just stepped in. He can feel it. Him. He has known it would happen sooner or later and maybe he should have expected it to happen now, because the way John had looked at him out there, only a few minutes ago, it had been… yeah, determined. Slowly he takes the wrist supports out of his locker and turns to face the other man, keeping his expression guarded.

John's breath hitches as his eyes obviously catch the dark bruise on his jaw. Like every time he sees it. And then the blue eyes drop to his wrists. To the bruises there, shaped like… fingers. John's fingers. And by the look which shows up on the older man's face it causes a sickness deep in his guts, because it's the first time he sees them. For a week Randy has managed to keep them hidden from everyone but now… Then John's gaze drops to the floor and the blue eyes close tightly. And Randy bites back the urge to go over to him and just take him into his arms… and feel him…

The whole situation is so damn… confusing. Wrong. And painful… too painful...

They both stand there in silence and with every passing second Randy's sure that John is… scared. But he can't soothe John's trouble. He can't take it away from him, just as John can't ease _his_ pain.

"You shouldn't be here."

Randy's voice is very quiet as he speaks eventually, a bit cautious and heavy with sadness. But there lies no reproach in it. John just looks at him for a few seconds and Randy sees that the older man wants to come over to him and do what he has always done all those years, just go there and hug him. But he doesn't.

It shouldn't be like this, Randy thinks and brushes a hand over his forehead, exhaling a quiet sigh. There shouldn't be so much pain between them.

"I'm so sorry, Ran," John says unsteady and Randy closes his eyes briefly at his pet name that always gives his heart a soft, warm tug. "I guess you hate me now and I can't blame you for it…"

"I don't hate you," Randy replies just above a whisper, his gaze dropping to his own hands.

From the corner of his eye he sees John shake his head softly no, as if he can't believe it.

"I hate myself for what I've done to you and you should hate me for it, too," the older man whispers as his gaze goes back to the bruises on his wrists. "I never wanted to hurt you…"

The black tape is wrapped around the sore wrists a bit quicker than usually, hiding the evidence of that night away from guilty eyes, which eventually find back to his. In their depths Randy can see how torn the other man is, sees the battle he's fighting with himself.

Stop fighting, Randy wants to say, beg. For once stop fighting…

"Johnny… I don't hate you and I don't want to. God knows I never could," he says instead, softly. "Things are… complicated and I know all this isn't easy for you. And it isn't for me." He tries to give him a smile and although it is only a tiny one, it's at least a real one. "I know you didn't want to hurt me."

And then John takes a step towards him. But Randy draws back.

"I miss you, Ran. _Please_…" John says quietly and he doesn't even try to hide the begging that laces into his voice.

Again he steps closer to Randy, holding a hand out towards him and there is the tiniest of flinches as Randy takes another step back, staying out of arms-length. John's arm drops to his side like a dead weight, but his eyes tell of a deep longing and although Randy fights to stop it, he knows the guarded expression he so hardly tries to keep up gives way to the same longing that keeps burning in his heart. And it is the reason Randy brings even more distance between them.

"I miss you, too, but we can't go on like this. We need…" His voice is quivering and he pauses before it breaks, clears his throat. "It'll be better if we keep some distance for a while. You have a girl and you… I…" Again he pauses, swallows hard. "I can't go on like nothing ever happened because I lo…" He trails off as he sees a fleeting shadow in John's eyes and whatever it is he has seen there, it leaves him unable to say _it_. "I need time, John. We both do. And you should go to Nikki now, I'm sure she's waiting for you."

Randy has to summon what is left of his willpower to hold the growing pain back, the tears which burn in his eyes, as he fights not to break down. But then John moves, coming closer and once more Randy wants to flee and shaking his head no he backs away. It is the locker that stops his retreat. And suddenly John is close, so close… too close… those beloved blue orbs, filled with the same turmoil he feels deep within his own chest, drawing him in, weakening his will…

"I don't know what to do, Ran."

The words, the closeness causes time to stand still in the room, paralysing Randy and he feels hands settle on his arms, smoothing down to his wrists where fingers curl around them in a gentle hold. With a sigh John leans in, resting his head against Randy's shoulder.

"Please go…" Randy breathes as he closes his eyes, trying hard to hold the tears back… but it is too late. Warm wetness runs down his cheeks and his voice is breaking as he adds: "Go. I want you to go…"

His name is whispered like a plea but the weight on his shoulder fades. The hands on his wrists vanish, but only a second later he feels a soft touch on his face, feels the tears being wiped away. And then… John leaves. The door opens, closes… and Randy sinks down to the floor, weeping, begging that this nightmare finally ends...


	23. 22nd advent

Christmas eve will find me, where the love light gleams… I'll be home for Christmas and you'll be in my dreams...

Hey there, **Corkie41, **your second door. Enjoy :)

* * *

**22nd advent**

**… one last try …**

* * *

People fussing about the room, talking to him, asking him things. Prodding, tugging, dabbing, something stings. Lie down, sit up, look at me. A hand on his back, constantly rubbing circles which are supposed to be soothing. Only that they are not. A kiss on his cheek that he does not want right now, but he can't avoid it since someone still works on his forehead. And all the time his eyes are fixed on the door.

There is a man, telling him that his injuries are not that bad. Thank you very much, he knows that already because he's sitting upright with bearable pain and it takes much more than a broken arm, bruises and a laceration on his forehead to kill him. He's had worse, much worse. It's not the first time he goes out of a match with injuries but it's the first time in a long while that… Randy hasn't come to the trainer's room to check on him. And it's what really hurts. It fucking hurts…

Now he sits on an examination table, surrounded by too much people and Nikki clinging to him and he doesn't want all that. Doesn't want them here. All he wants is some peace and quiet and… and Randy… God, how he wishes he would be here. Just be here with him, like he used to, maybe even… John sighs as the memory of those comforting, soothing touches invade his mind all to vividly. Nikki whispers things into his ear, but he doesn't hear them. Someone gets busy on his arm, putting a splint on, but he doesn't care. Then she leans in to place a kiss on his lips and this time he turns his head away, mutters that he doesn't want that right now and he knows he hurts her by doing so, but he can't help it. And all the time… his eyes stay fixed on the door.

He still can't understand when the things have started to get out of hand. And why. They have been best buddies for such a long time, so why did it suddenly… change? Why does everything have to be so complicated? He's with Nikki and he's not… gay. But he loves Randy. He's _in love_ with him. God… And he's too damn scared to admit it…

There's probably nothing he can do to make it up to Randy for what he has done. He's hurt him in so many ways… The idea of losing him… numbs him, paralyses him, threatens to choke him. But Randy's right, they can't go on like nothing ever happened, that they need to keep distance. At least for a while, until things calm down between them.

Only that John doubts that it'll get better. With every day he falls more and more for him… and he has no idea what to do. Give in to his heart? Admit that he loves… a man? His best friend? Risk everything?

Closing his eyes he bows his head and wishes he would be stronger, but he isn't and he wants to hide, from all this. And from himself. And the irony of it... he has hurt Randy over and over again and still he's the one who tries to save his relationship with Nikki, their friendship and... him. And he knows Randy is hurting himself with it. Another sigh. Someone asks him if he's alright and he whispers a _yes_, feels Nikki's hands on his shoulder, his arm and a kiss on his neck and he wants to snap at her to fucking leave him alone. He doesn't though. It's not her fault, all this. She only wants to help him.

But it's not _her_ he wants, not her touch, her kiss…

Faintly he hears the door to the room being opened a bit roughly and only when Nikki tenses up beside him he gazes up. And for a moment the world stops turning.

Randy…

Maybe he has only been thinking it, maybe has said it aloud. It's not important. Randy is standing there at the threshold, the handsome features for once not guarded and those grey eyes wide and full of worry. Relief washes over the younger man's face as their gazes lock, but soon after John can see a change in his expression, telling him that Randy is about to leave again now that he knows John isn't hurt all too bad and maybe because Nikki is here, too. And… because they need distance…

He's not gonna let that happen. Not now that Randy has really come here. No fucking way.

His voice is calm but leaves no room for any kind of demur as he tells the medic staff… and Nikki… to leave the room. His eyes never leave Randy's, begging him not to go, _pleading_ him as a certain indecisiveness glints there. The medic staff leaves, the doctor saying something about a few minutes. He hasn't even dared to hope that Randy might come to check on him, so he nods, grateful for those few minutes. And Nikki… she leaves, too, after a moment of reluctance. She glares at Randy as she passes him, but he never even gives her the tiniest of glances as he steps into the room.

The door closes. And they are alone.

John sits still on the table, not daring to move as if he could scare Randy away if he did. But his eyes still beg and he's glad beyond words that the other man is here. And then… Randy hesitantly comes over to him and with every step there is a tension growing between them, humming, spreading throughout the room. John has felt that tension before, that intoxicating something between them. This thing that causes a tingling and warmth, the one that makes his heart beat faster and steals his breath. For the first time in days there are no bad feelings… no guilt, no fear or sadness. Only relief and… longing for the other.

Randy stops in front of him at arms-length while his eyes roam John, wincing as they trail over the splint, the bruises on his side and the band-aid on his forehead, before they seek his eyes again. It's now that John notices how glassy the younger man's eyes are. He watches him swallow hard, taking a few deep breathes as if to calm down. Or to find his voice.

"When I heard what has happened, they had already taken you to the hospital," Randy says, voice unsteady… scared. He reaches up, letting his fingertips hover over the band-aid as he adds: "I was so scared that you're seriously hurt… I… I was so damn scared, John..."

John wants to say something, maybe apologize or… he doesn't know. The words get stuck in his throat and all he can do is get lost in those worried grey orbs he loves so much and when Randy's hand settles on the band-aid so very tenderly… like a silent permission to be close… he closes his eyes with a shuddering sigh, leaning into the touch. His own hands come up to his friend's tee, curling into the fabric to pull him close. And Randy follows.

And suddenly it all seems to be so easy.

His good arm closes around the younger man's waist and with Randy's name on his lips he rests his head against the spot just above his friend's heart, _his_ very own place, giving into a sweet ache which explodes in his chest because… finally. _Finally_. The familiar warmth, his scent, his heartbeat… the feeling of holding him close… A hand cradles his head while the other smoothes over his back, giving the comfort Nikki couldn't. And the pain fades...

"God, Ran… I've missed you so much…" he whispers as he nuzzles his face against Randy's chest, savoring the feeling, hears Randy tell him that he has missed him, too.

There is a soft push on his shoulder after a moment and when he draws back and gazes up to the other man, he finds the most vulnerable and affectionate expression there he has ever seen on Randy's face. It makes his heart trip. Hands frame his face and thumbs brush over his cheeks lovingly and then Randy leans down and… kisses him, drinks the tiny moan that escapes John's throat, because his lips, they remember Randy's kiss. The softness… the love which lies in it, leaving him craving, begging for more. His heart jumps in his chest, settling for a fast pounding.

More…

With another tiny moan he holds on to the other man for dear life, tastes the sweetness of his kiss that takes him back to their night. His hand slips under Randy's shirt and receives a small whimper from him, the tiny sound wrapping around his heart… God… there is a tingling on his fingertips, his palm, flooding his whole body. Warmth and…

… love…

But then those perfect lips leave his as Randy breaks the kiss, rests his forehead against his while a hand settles on John's cheek. There is a trembling running through him and John wraps his arm tighter around the slender waist.

"I know I said we need to keep distance and I sent you away, but… the past days almost killed me and I… I can't give you up without one last try," Randy says shakily, while his thumbs brushes over John's cheek in a tender caress. "I love you, John. So much that it hurts. And I know that you feel the same. I want to be with you but… this is your decision."

With that he breathes a kiss on John's forehead and pulls back, just as the door opens. The moment breaks, leaving a deep emptiness behind as Randy steps away from him. Blue seeks grey and in those precious silver orbs lies a question, a plea. And a promise.

The medical staff comes back in, followed by Nikki who pushes past Randy, once more sending him a glare and she sits down beside John, kissing him on the cheek and her lips feel alien on his skin. He watches a shadow cast over Randy's eyes briefly, before they soften again.

"I should go," Randy says quietly, gracing him with a shadow of that beautiful smile of his.

Then he walks away. And suddenly John finds himself in the middle of too much busyness again, with too many people around him. He has seen him walk away, but it is now that it hits him like a blow… Randy is… gone…

And all that is left is the memory of a perfect moment… and the weight of a decision so tough that it scares the shit out of him...


	24. 23rd advent

Your second door, **Alonia187** ;D

* * *

**23rd advent**

**… forlorn … turmoil …**

* * *

**… forlorn …**

The keys are heavy in his hands, the metal cold on his skin. The hall seems ridiculously big and empty as he stands there, at the front door. He feels forlorn. And too alone.

And he wonders if it has been a mistake… going to the hospital, telling John that he loves him… What if it has been a push too much? Yet… he has felt that there is more from John's side than just friendship. Hell, John has been the one who… He sighs heavily. The kiss, their night together… Why would John do that if there isn't more? And when he kissed him, back at the hospital… he has answered the kiss. Has touched him. Again and not like a… a best buddy…

Three days. Three agonizing days of pacing like an agitated cat, sitting curled up in the corner of the couch, lying awake in bed… feeling numb yet hurting at the same time. Waiting. Hoping. For any kind of a reaction from John. This… waiting… he has no idea how long he'll survive it. And maybe it's the reason why he's now standing here, with his keys in hand. On his way to John's place…

He huffs a bitter little laughter. What is it he's expecting? That seeing him now makes John say, yes, I wanna spend my life with you? If it would be that easy, the other man would have said a word in the past days. It isn't easy, this decision. He knows it, knows how it feels… to admit that you're in love with a man. Your best friend. It's not just a, hey babe, I love you, let's give it a try. There's so much to lose. He can understand that John is scared about… giving in to… them.

But there is so much more to gain, isn't there?

His fingers curl around the keys as he heaves another sigh and closes his eyes. John… _John_. To think of him is enough to make his knees go weak. To make his heart jump in his chest. He's never before felt a love like this. And maybe he has never before really been _in love…_

Those days before he has gone to the hospital to talk to John had been a fight with himself. Torn between telling himself that it is his fucking job as a best friend to do what is the best for John, to stay away from him until they can go back to just being friends, and to give in to what his heart demands. To fight for him, be with him. But with every day he tried to keep distance, he only found himself needing him even more. Until it had become too much. Until he couldn't do anything else but follow his heart...

Absentmindedly he reaches for the cell in his pocket, takes it out. He knows there won't be a message, yet his eyes flick to the screen nevertheless and his thumb trails over the surface, opening the messages. There is one message that still waits to be sent…

_- I love you, Johnny, and I know you love me, too. Please, give us a chance. -_

It's a desperate message. But… he _is_ desperate. Three days… three fucking days. Not one single word. And his hopes slip… with every passing minute. But... His thumb hits the delete button. John needs to make his decision. He can't push him… And if he decides to be with Nikki? It will kill him. He knows it will…

The keys drop to the counter, as does his cell. His feet find the way to the couch and he sits down, pulls his knees up to his chest and the comforter around his shoulders as he tries to hide away. He misses him. So very much…

Hiding his face against his knees he does what he has done for the last three days. Waiting, hoping. Hurting. Because in the end, there's nothing else he can do...

**… turmoil …**

Freezing cold air blows into his face, creeps into his jacket as he sits on the bench in his yard. His shoes have vanished under a thick layer of snow and he's surrounded by feathery, bright white flakes which are dancing in the wind. It's peaceful out here. Quiet.

It's gonna be a perfectly white Christmas, he thinks. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I don't feel the least bit like it is.

A gust of wind whirls the snowflakes around, disturbs their beautiful dance and leaves them helpless against its force. John sighs and for a moment his hands and the photo they hold are immersed in a white cloud. The wind eases and he watches the flakes resume their choreography, creating this peaceful quietness again. Inside of him it isn't quiet and peaceful though and the picture of those snowflakes, helpless against the wind, matches the turmoil he feels perfectly… because he feels as helpless.

Tender fingers brush some snow off the photo, before he lets his fingertips run over it with the same tenderness. It's the one photo he's been carrying around in his wallet for over a year now. A photo of Randy. His favorite one. Taken as he had helped him painting the living room, showing a shirtless Randy in shorts with white paint staining the tan skin. He doesn't even know why it is his favorite one, maybe because he looks so carefree on it. Or maybe it is because despite the white paint all over him, he simply looks stunning with that so very beautiful smile of his on his lips and those sparkling eyes…

No one knows that it is in his wallet, not even Randy. It is his little secret.

Randy's words still echoe in his mind, telling him that he loves him so much. That he wants to be with him. That it is his decision… And he tries so hard to make it, this decision. For four days now. But… he's too scared.

Closing his eyes, he lifts a hand up to his lips, touching them lightly. He can still feel Randy's lips… and he can still feel the tingling and the warmth against his palm. And every time he recalls those moments… the flood of feelings, emotions which hits him takes the breath out of him. It's like an addiction and every look, every touch is like a badly needed fix. With every day he wants him more and… loves him more. So much that the need for him has become almost unbearable. No… it _has_ become unbearable. Hurting comes not even close to what he feels when Randy's not with him. And his heart, his mind… his whole being holds on to this man...

He feels a stare, telling him that Nikki has woken up and he would have wished for some more time to be alone, to sort his thoughts and feelings. And maybe finally make the decision he ows Nikki and Randy. But if he's lucky she won't come out all too soon. Just a little more time...

There is a tension between Nikki and him lately, and it's not a good one. But it's not surprising, is it? He knows he's been too quiet around her over the past days and every time she tries to cuddle with him, he comes up with an excuse. And… huh… it might be over two weeks by now the last time they've had sex because… he can't. He simply… can't. When she's with him, when he touches her, kisses her… there's nothing. Nothing except the longing for _him_.

And all this should make it easy for him to decide, shouldn't it? But it fucking doesn't, because this is not some fairy tale where everything turns out good. This is the real life where you can't just say, fuck it all. The whole fucking world knows who they are, follows what they do or not, who they are with and _judge_ the things they do. It's not that fucking easy to say, hey world, I'm with a guy now, live with it. Their careers, their life… _one single wrong decision can destroy everything_.

And if he gives in to his heart… they'll have to hide their relationship. Hide from the world. How long can a relationship work under such circumstances? Sooner or later it'll end in pieces, crushed under the pressure of not being able to really be together. And if not, if they really manage to be strong enough to fend all this off… one day someone will notice something. And then it won't just be vanishing from the screen just like that. People will talk, their lives will be ripped apart. What if they won't be strong enough to survive it together? Or... what if some lunatic who has a problem with them being together... hurts Randy?

He can't risk losing him. He can't risk that Randy's getting hurt... No, God, no...

But if he doesn't follow his heart… Randy's name falls from his lips as a whisper, wrapped in a white, fuzzy veil which melts into the snow filled air, while his fingers once more caress the photo. If he doesn't follow his heart, how should he ever go on? Now that he has tasted… love?

"I don't know what to do, Ran," he whispers, lifting the photo up to rest his forehead against it as he closes his eyes. "I love you but I'm scared. I'm so… _so fucking scared_…"

Randy has made his decision. And as he sits there, in the white and freezing quietness of his yard, John wishes he would be strong enough to do the same.

Tonight is the last show before Christmas and he knows Randy is gonna be there. He feels guilty beyond words for leaving his friend waiting for an answer but… he has none.

The quietness around him is disturbed by the sound of fresh snow giving way under feet and his name is being said quietly, like a question almost. One last time his eyes roam the photo before he stores it away safely, out of her sight and none too soon. She comes to stand in front of him and as he looks up he sees the questions in her eyes, the ones which are already lingering there for days now. And he knows that sooner or later he'll have to answer them. But he also sees that the moment hasn't come yet. She holds out a hand to him and he takes it, following her into the house, but her touch feels more and more alien to him with every passing day.

Yet the battle deep within him... it continues…


	25. 24th advent - Christmas Eve

I can't believe it's Christmas Eve. Time went by so fast since I started the Centon Advent Calendar.

I am so glad that you guys liked it, because I haven't been sure how it would turn out, since I hadn't already written the chaps before the whole thing started.

Every single chapter was served to you freshly baked.

Thank you all for the amazing feedback. It made my Advent, because every time a door opened for you, it also opened for me, gifting me your reviews.

I hope you'll enjoy this door as much as the ones before. Make my Christmas Eve and leave a review. It would make me a very, very happy girl!

This door is dedicated to **John and Randy**, because they had to go through so much to finally get here.

And now shoo, off to the Centon Christmas Eve!

* * *

**24th advent**

**… the gift that Santa forgot …**

* * *

The small glimmering bow reflects the light from the illuminated Christmas tree in beautiful golden sparkles as he slightly turns it back and forth between his fingers. The room around him is dimmed, yet the tree and the fireplace and what might be a hundred candles dye it in a soft, heart-warmingly glow.

Although he's surrounded by his family, he feels utterly alone. This is his first Christmas without Sam and Alanna and it's tough that his girl isn't here with him. He lets the ribbon slip through his fingers again and again, exhaling a silent sigh. The scent of gingerbread, hot wine punch and egg-nog lies in the air, the faint smell of the fireplace and the fir under which he's sitting cross-legged, with ribbons, bows and shreds of gift wrap paper all around him. It looks like home, smells like home. His family is here.

Only that it doesn't feel like home.

He feels too hollow, too… lost. Defeated, exhausted. Desperate. He has to close his eyes as those feelings once more flare up, brightly, devouring.

His cell lies abandoned in a drawer in his room. He has turned it off after the show last night, because John… he has seen him, but… nothing. Not one word. And today is Christmas Eve and he… if John would call him, telling him that there is no chance for them… it would kill him and how should he keep appearances up around his family? No…

The tiniest of hopes he has harbored has died away yesterday. Ever since he has surrendered to all those agonizing feelings which keep him prisoner, letting the pain tear at his heart, letting the numbness which it brings along paralyse him.

There is a gentle touch on the top of his head and when he opens his eyes, he finds his mother kneeling in front of him with that special loving, worried expression on her face that only mothers have. She says something about him missing Alanna and he nods. He does, God knows how much. But he can't tell his mom that it is John he's missing so much. Not yet. Maybe… some day he can talk to her about it. And maybe he even should… He brings a smile to his lips as she kisses his forehead and gets up.

And Randy is alone again, drowning in his thoughts.

After the show yesterday he had declined all invitations for the Christmas party, wanting nothing more than to get out there as fast as possible. Five times. He had seen John five times yesterday and all the other man gave him was a guilty, apologetic expression. No hello, no lets talk. Not even a simple yes or no. Nothing.

And when he passed John's locker room and Nikki came out, a bright smile on her lips… it hit him like a slap to the face. Nikki… looked so happy… The door to John's room had been open a crack and when he took a glance, he found the older man sitting there, staring at the dog-tags in his hands. Running a thumb over one of them. Lost in his thoughts…

And then John looked up to him and the sadness which appeared in those beloved blue eyes froze him to the spot. And for a long moment they only stared at one another. But John still didn't say a word, dropped his gaze instead. And Randy… left.

The whole night he had been sitting in his bed, trying hard to think, to feel nothing, but he failed miserably. John would have said a word if he doesn't want to give them a try, wouldn't he? Maybe he hasn't made his decision yet. It's what he kept telling himself.

What if he's too afraid to talk to you, to tell you that he doesn't want to be with you? It's what a voice in the back of his head kept whispering. And when the morning arrived, that voice had erased any kind of hope from his heart.

This now, the turning off his cell, it is only stalling for time. Sooner or later he'll have to face that he has lost him.

_John…_

… pain rips through his chest…

_Johnny…_

… tears his heart in pieces...

Suddenly his mother is back at his side, holding cookies towards him but he only shakes his head no. He's not hungry and his mother has tried hard to make him eat something during the dinner, but… he's sure it won't stay down. He hears her say that she's so worried and he murmurs an apology, hears her sigh and her delicate hand settles on his. She keeps speaking to him, asking what is wrong but once more he only shakes his head no, pressing his lips to a tight line as he fights back a burning in his eyes which stay fixed on that goddamn sparkling bow in his fingers.

Not now, not here, not in front of his whole family…

Faintly he notices the room become quieter as the tune of The First Noel and the warm voice of Frank Sinatra spreads throughout the room… The ache in his chest grows and he wants to run… wants to hide… The bow is crushed as his fingers curl to a fist and he screw his eyes shut as he feels tears rise…

"Randy?"

His name is spoken quiet, gently and with hesitation in a low, rich voice… and it takes a long moment until he realizes that this voice isn't a only a memory and when he does, his heart stumbles hard in his chest. When has he come in? He hasn't even heard the doorbell… Beside him his mother whispers to him to welcome his guest, but Randy is scared to look up.

"Randy, listen… I know you have every right to be angry and disappointed, but please… give me five minutes," the voice says, still quiet, still gently and he can feel the eyes of every single member of his family rest on him and he also can feel the questions lying in them. "_Please._"

Swallowing hard he takes a deep breath and somehow manages to banish the tears from his eyes before he finally looks up. And the fear in him grows…

John stands there, an unreadable expression on his face. Slowly Randy gets up from his place under the tree, the crushed bow falling from his hand and onto the remains of what has been beautifully wrapped gifts, and it's almost ridiculous how those shreds match his life.

Walking past John he keeps quiet because his voice refuses to work, but he doesn't need to say anything anyway. The other man excuses them and follows him as quiet as they make their way up to Randy's room, where Randy walks over to the window, wrapping his arms around himself. The door closes and he hears John walk up behind him, but he keeps his back towards the older man, keeps his eyes on the brightly lit Christmas decoration in the yard… waiting. Scared. His heart is hammering in his chest and the tears… they are back. But somehow he manages to keep them from falling. For the moment at least. It is all he wants... listen to him, get over with it. Somehow. Before he would break down...

"I tried to call you," John says and his voice matches the expression on his face. "Why have you turned off your phone?"

Because I was afraid you would, Randy thinks, trying to control his breathing.

"And because you didn't get me on the phone, you ditched Christmas Eve with your family and came all the way to talk to me," he answers instead and he hates how unsteady his own voice sounds… or how hurt.

A sigh, followed by another few steps and although John isn't touching him, he can feel him and it sends a shiver down his spine as is whole body screams for his friend.

"Randy, look at me."

When he doesn't turn around, he feels a hand on his shoulder and a gentle pull, urging him to turn around.

"Please… please look at me, Ran…"

Eventually he does. And the unreadable expression has faded from John's face, has given way to a deep sadness which makes Randy wrap his arms tighter around himself.

"For the past days I've been thinking about us, every single second and I…" John starts but trails off as if he doesn't find the right words. Then he breathes another sigh before he continues: "I'm fucking scared of what could happen if people find out about us. It could destroy both our lifes and the lifes of our families. And all the time I wished I could be as strong as you are. But I am not…"

Oddly enough Randy's heart stops running, the pain within him subsides… or maybe it doesn't, only passes the point when his body can't take it anymore and shuts down. He isn't sure and it doesn't matter. Bowing his head and screws his eyes shut.

"Okay…" he whispers and still his voice breaks at the word. "Can you please go? I need to be alone…"

John's hands settle on his arms, carefully pulling them apart against a practically nonexistent resistance. What would it be good for to fight him?

"No, I'm not done yet," John says softly and steps up to him, taking one of his hands in his.

Something is placed in it and the hand which settles on his cheek causes his eyes to snap open. The sadness… gone. Replaced by deepest affection, by warmth, by… by that special loving expression John only shows to him. For an agonizing moment he fears that this is only a dream, but then John nods and Randy's eyes drop to his own hand.

A small box. With trembling fingers he opens it and… A key. In it lies a key. He takes it out. Confused he looks up to the other man.

"It's the key to my house and well… to my life…" John smiles, a tiny yet real smile. "I love you, Ran, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every day, every minute. And I'm sorry for hurting you and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting. I promise I'm gonna make up to you for everything." A puffed, small laughter falls from his lips. "But I need you to safe Super-Cena. Be strong enough for both of us until I catch up with you, okay? That is… if you still want me."

Silence. For a full minute. And suddenly there is a plea on John's face and uncertainty, maybe because Randy hasn't said anything, just stares at the older man. His fingers curl tightly around the key, tighter, until he feels a pain in his hand that tells him that this is _real_. Hesitantly he opens his fingers again, puts the key back into the box and places it on the windowsill. He can't speak. And he doesn't want to…

His lips find John's, drinking down his surprised gasp, and his arms lock around the older man's neck to pull him in, hold him close. Tongues meet, battling for dominance but soon Randy surrenders willingly.

And all the pent up frustration and desperation, the longing, the craving… the yearning love… unfurls…

Shirts are tugged over heads, hands roam, fingers map and caress… and suddenly they are lying on the bed and John is hovering over him, but this time there is no pain, only tenderness and burning desire for the other. This tension is back, humming, pulsating, vibrating through them. John's name is a tiny moan on his lips as he feels him suck at the puls point right under his jaw while eager fingers trail over his chest, grazing his nipples, down over his abs, all of it sending jolts of heat right between his legs and faintly he noticed as his pants vanish, his boxers…

His own hands roam the broad back and further down to that perfect ass… when has John lost his clothes…? Fuck, who cares…? His fingers dig into the firm flesh, pull the massive body down while he bucks his hips, meeting John… His whimper laces into John's low groan as their hard cocks brush against each other. His lover's lips seal over his once again and his moans get lost as John ravishes his mouth, nestles between his legs.

Heat… where loving hands touch him. His body… on fire… His name being whispered into his ear, heavy with affection… sending a tingling down his spine.

With every movement of their hips he feels waves of arousal roll through him and he wraps his legs around his lovers waist to give him more access, to press closer to him as their movements become faster, groins grinding against each other, creating a steady friction. Soft moans and groans and the sound of harsh panting fills the small space between them. Randy feels their cocks throb, trapped between their bodies... his lust coiling up in his belly to a burning ball of pleasure.

He feels a thin sheen of sweat cover the soft skin under his touch as his hand roam, as he clings to John and as he seeks his lover's eyes, those blue eyes are almost black and raw with need. With a growl John claims his mouth once more in a demanding kiss, stealing his breath… nails scrape over his side, leaving a delicious burning in their wake…

And then… he's lost… the ball of pleasure in his belly unfurls, the heat flooding him and with a breahtless cry he cums, spilling his seed between their bellys, and John is right there with him, moaning his name…

For long moments neither of them moves as they ride on the waves of the aftermath and Randy savors the feeling of John blanketing him completely, dwells in his scent, his warmth… Fingers ghost over a bare tattooed shoulder, creating waves of goosebumps...

"Mmh…" John hums into the crook of his neck. "I wonder what's gonna happen when we get to the real love-making…"

"We gonna die happily…?" Randy drawls while running a lazy hand over the muscled back.

A snort.

Then: "Could live with that…"

A slender eyebrow quirkes, unseen by the older man.

"Barely, Cena."

A tiny growl and a nip on his skin.

"Don't call me that when we're lying naked on each other. Not sexy," John mutters.

"Okay… babe."

An approving hum.

"Wait. You want me to babe you?"

No hum but lips sucking on a patch of soft skin, a tongue flicking over the sensitiv skin.

"Johnny, you gonna mark me…" he moans helplessly.

The sucking stops, morphes to a low purr. With a happy sigh Randy turns his face a bit, breathes a sweet kiss against the blond hair.

"We should go back down before mum comes up here to make sure we're okay," he murmurs, the words coated with regret.

John shifts in his arms, braces on his ellbows as he seeks his eyes. For a moment Randy forgets how to breathe at the overwhelming love he finds in those blue orbs and his arms wrap a little tighter around the broad back to anchor himself.

"What a pity…" John says and leans in to place a kiss to the tip of Randy's nose, before he steals another kiss from those lips he has denied himself for so long. "I love you so much, Ran…" he whispers against Randy's lips.

"And I love you, babe…" Randy breathes and lifting a hand to his lover's face, he trails his fingertips softly over his cheek and maybe John can see the wonder in his eyes he feels, because he's allowed to touch him like this and… to hear John say that he loves him.

I takes them a full minute more until they finally crawl out of the bed, get dressed and back down. A hand on his arm stops Randy at the foot of the stairs and when he turns around to John, his heart is wrapped in a warm veil as he finds that loving smile on his lips, the joyful sparkling in those beloved baby blues. And then John takes a quick glance around, stretches up and steals a kiss.

When they step back into the living room, his mother already waits for them with egg-nog and cookies and an invitation for John to stay overnight. Randy resumes his place under the Christmas tree, watching John with a happily dancing heart as he makes a round to say hello to everyone, before he sits down beside him.

The scent of gingerbread, hot wine punch, fir and the faint smell of the fireplace are still permeating the air around them. The soft light that fills the room is like a comforting touch and as he gazes at John, he finds him engulfed in the soft glow of the lights of the Christmas tree which makes his smile and the sparkling in his eyes even more beautiful. And with that smile John takes one of the ribbons, wraps it around Randy's neck very gently… making sure his fingers caress the skin there… and ties a bow, while his lips move silenty…

_… mine… _

Love bubbles over in Randy's chest while his eyes stay fixed on John's, wishing he could get lost in them forever. Another Christmas carol waves through the air. Someone joins in.

It is Christmas Eve, the time in the year when wishes can come true. His wish… it _has_ come true. Wrapped up in thick wrapping paper and tightly tied ribbons… one of those gifts you need to fight for to finally get it opened… he has found it under the Christmas tree.

The love of his life.

* * *

**A/N**

Okay, so… this was the 24th door. The last calendar door...

But: *winks at BrightAsNight* I want you to know that I've got a surprise for you up my sleeve.

Soon. Just be patient ;D

_Until then I wish you and your families a very merry Christmas Eve, lots of presents, egg-nog and cookies!_


	26. The hidden door

Soooo… This is the last day of the year 2013.

As I wrote in my A/N to the 24th advent, I had a suprise up my sleeve.

This hidden door is dedicated to **BrightAsNight**, because she wished for the 25th calender door and here it is, my love ;)

I hope you'll like it :)

And because I'm late with this post, I won't write much more at this point.

Except: I wish you all a good start into the year 2014 and I wish for all of you that it'll be a good year.

Happy New Year, guys!

* * *

**A Centon Advent Calendar - The Hidden Door**

**… New Year's resolution …**

* * *

**… claimed …**

The hot water rains down on him, cascading over his aching muscles, touches every inch of his already heated skin. Steam rises around him, engulfs him like a caress. The sigh he exhales mingles into it as he moves a bit, causing it to flare up like a flame.

It has been a good match. A perfect one. Ever since he and John have allowed themselves to be more than just friends their dance in the ring… has changed. Like a choreography of their life together. And sometimes he thinks that if one takes just one closer look, it might tell the truth. And sometimes… Randy wishes for it.

A little more than a year now since John came to his parent's house to admit that he loves him, too. A perfect night and a perfect life together that followed up until this day, except for… the hiding. He knows that John is still afraid of what might happen if they are found out about and Randy is, too, but the hiding hurts. Still he doesn't push John. One day they both will be ready, will be strong enough to tell the world to fuck off.

_John…_

The name is breathed into the rhythm of the falling water. Today it has been… special. It happens sometimes. It's like… that consuming, spine-tingling, breathtaking and so goddamn mind-blowing in-every-possible-way-good thing which is them breaks through while they are in the middle of the ring, takes control and… and suddenly it isn't a match anymore but… a foreplay. With John lingering a tad too long with his face close to his groin… with this wicked sparkling in those cerulean orbs… and, gosh… his dick pressing against his thighs or his butt… And he wasn't any better, putting his hands on John's amazing butt at every possible chance, rubbing… grinding… against that tempting muscled frame and…

A low groan passes his lips as he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. He feels heat rush between his legs and his cock springs to life. Fuck, he needs to stop thinking about it…

But… he can't. He's obsessed with this man. His mind longs for him, his body craves for him and his heart whispers his name with every heartbeat. The moment John wrapped that ribbon around his neck that Christmas Eve, he has claimed him and God knows Randy wouldn't want it any other way. Being claimed by John is like...

A shove sends him against the tiled wall and only a blink later a hard body pins him against it. Surprised he blinks against the water which blurres his view, braces his hands against the wall to push away from it, but a low growl right beside his ear stops him.

"Don't move…"

Hands on his hips and a hard cock poking against his backside… fingers digging into his flesh… A helpless little moan slips past his lips.

"You goddamn teasing bastard…" the person pressing against him growles once more.

Hot lips… planting a kiss on that sensitive spot right under his ear, down his neck, sucking, nibbling… causing Randy to shudder. A hand travels to his abs where fingers splay possessively, resting there for a moment in which he feels the body behind him shift, feels the hard flesh at his backside nestle between his butt cheeks, before the hand travels further down and a whimper escapes his throat as those fingers close around his own cock that twitches in anticipation at the mere touch. With another whimper he bucks into the hand and earns a low chuckle.

"Naughty boy…" A whisper against his neck, followed by a gentle nip and a soothing kiss. "Take a step back and keep your hands on the wall."

Randy does, exhaling sharply as the hand on his cock starts a slow, jerking movement, while the one on his hips reaches for his balls, massaging them… fueling the heat and the need that the match has caused in him and the still falling water seems to make all this even more sensual, erotic. Moaning quietly he rolls his hips, slowly fucks the hand which keeps its fingers in a firm hold around his rock-hard cock… pushes back against the throbbing hardness against his ass. His mind steps back, allowing his senses to taker over and for long moments there is only this hand, the growing heat between his legs, the throbbing cock between his butt cheeks and the harsh breathing behind him…

"Spread your legs," comes the hissed command and he obeys.

The hands leave his body, and the loss draws a dissapointed little sound from him, and there is a quiet, clicking sound, before something is slipped over his head. His eyes find the small silver plates, dangling from the chain which hangs from his neck. The water runs down the shining metal like a waterfall, washing over the names on them. Over his own name. Those dog-tags… _his_ dog-tags… have become John's way of marking him, at least when they are alone, because he can't mark him for everyone to see. It is their ritual… A kiss is placed between his shoulder blades and the hands are back on his body, trailing down his back to his hips.

"You're mine…" John says in that husky, possessive voice that does not leave the tiniest of doubts, before he moves back just enough to slip a hand between their bodies.

The _yes_ Randy wants to breathe turns into a shuddering moan as John goes back to jerking him off slowly while pushing a finger past Randy's entrance, hitting his sweet spot, because John knows his body. And his body knows John. Soon his lover adds a second finger, a third, sending small jolts of lust through Randy's body until his body screams for more. For _him_.

"John, please," he pants. "_Please_…"

The fingers vanish and he feels something bigger press against his entrance, while a hand settles on his hip to hold him in place. And then… John stills, leaves him burning, aching… and he wants to push back, but the hand on his hip doesn't let him.

"Say it," John demands, but all that leaves Randy's lips is another whimper. The hold on his hip becomes tighter for a heartbeat as John says: "I want you to say it…"

"Fuck me," Randy eventually manages to say and he doesn't care that he's begging. "Please, John, I need to feel you inside me."

John pushes his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in Randy's tight heat with a stuttering groan, causing Randy to claw at the tiled wall at the burning sensation it brings with. Again he feels John still and both their harsh breaths get lost in the pouring water. The burning lessens, leaving a delicious pain behind. The hold on his hip becomes gentle as fingers splay, caress. John murmurs soothing words, placing loving kisses on his neck. Randy closes his eyes, his whole being narrowing on the man he loves. His touch, his voice, his lips on his skin, his scent and… to feel him inside his body makes him feel… complete.

"You alright, Ran?" John asks a little breathless, maybe from holding back, as he rest his forehead against Randy's shoulder.

Randy nods and hears a whispered _okay_, before his lover begins to move his hips back and forth slowly and the hand on his cock does, too, matching the rhythm of the thrusts. Soon every trace of pain fades, leaves only a longing, a lust behind that grows and floods his body with every thrust of John's hips, with every jolt of bright sparkling electricity as his sweet spot is hit again and again.

And in between their muffled moans and gasps there is the soft metallic sound of dog-tag against dog-tag. One of his hands comes down, closing around the small plates and John doesn't stop him. Maybe because he knows that he needs to do this, needs to feel John's mark.

"Faster… h-harder…"

He only realizes that the words have left his mouth when the hold on his hip tightens to the point of being painful, as John pulls out of him completely, only to slam back in with a forceful thrust that makes his whole body quake, that rips a strangled scream of pleasure from his throat. And John goes harder, faster, the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin lacing into the sounds of their lust. Faintly he notices the hold on his hip vanish and with a shuddering groan he pushes back, meeting every thrust because he needs to feel more of him, says his lover's name over and over like a plea as John smoothes his hand up over his spine to close his fingers around Randy's neck in a firm yet gentle hold. He's close… so close… he doesn't want it to end so soon, but the pleasure that rolls in hot waves through him and he's lost in that current. The edges of the tags dig into his hand as his fingers close tighter around them but the delicious pain only pushes him further towards his climax.

Suddenly there is a buzzing in his ears, the sound of the running shower fades away and all there is… is the burning in him. And John. The feeling of them being one. And then… John's movements become erratic and with one last mighty thrust he cums deep within Randy, fills him… and Randy's name is a throaty moan on his lips… and it pulls Randy with him over the edge.

His vision blackens for a second as his orgasm rips through him and with a breathless shout he follows, exploding in his lover's hand. His knees give out under him but strong arms catch him, close around him to pull him back against a broad chest to hold him upright and close. For long moments they stay like this, dwelling in the aftermath and Randy lets himself fall into the feeling of those arms wrapped around him, holding him safe and of having John still buried in him.

Humming John places loving little kisses on his shoulder, his neck and seeks for his hand which is still tightly closed around the dog-tags, peeling it off. Randy doesn't want to let go of them, but when he does John entwines their fingers, compensating the loss.

John turns the water off and as he shifts, Randy feels him slip out of his body, leaving another loss behind and it draws a tiny sound of disappointment from him. It earns him a low chuckle as he pushes his butt against John's groin.

"I swear one day I'll fuck your soul out of that amazing body of yours," John growls as he rolls his hip in answer, before he urges him to turn around.

Big hands come up to frame his face as John stretches up to kiss him. It's a soft and loving kiss, far from being as rough as the past minutes have been. It's wooing and sweet, thorough and makes his knees go weak for the second time within a few minutes.

"Fuck my soul out, huh?" he murmurs against John's lips as the kiss breaks. He can't help the impish note that laces into his voice as he adds: "You're too old for such a stunt, babe."

The sound of the slap John gives him on his butt for the comment echoes through the room, as does his yelp and his surprised gasp as he's being lifted up and trapped between John and the wall gets lost in it. Strong fingers dig into his backside and his whole vision is filled with deep, blue eyes. His legs circle the thick waist, his arms loop around John's neck to anchor himself because those eyes draw him into their depths.

"If we had some more time right now, I would show you what an old man is capable of, _Randal_," John purrs, punctuating the last word with a sharp buck of his hips.

A shuddering moan escapes Randy's mouth that gets lost in John's mouth as he seals his lips once more over Randy's. Much too soon it ends and John gently lets him down.

"I want you to keep the tags on a while longer," the older man says, hooking a finger in the chain to steers him over to the locker room.

After getting dressed quickly, Randy steals another sweet kiss from those wonderful lips. John keeps his hand on the small of Randy's back as they leave his locker room and like so often Randy thinks that they are lucky that no one cares about it. They don't come far though as they are caught off by a young woman, maybe a technician, and he's sure he has never seen her before, but obviously John has because he greets her with a bright smile and a hug. He stands beside them silently as they exchange a few words, listens as she asks John out. John politely declines. He always does but it _hurts_ to have to watch how girls try to get a piece of John when he's already taken, to have to keep his mouth shut when he wants to tell those girls to fuck off and keep their hands off his man. The words are lingering in his mouth, always, just like they do right now and those words are sharp and bitter on his tongue. He grits his teeth and his hand find the tags, feeling them through the fabric of his tee, the fine contour reminding him that there is no reason to be jealous.

But he is. He's fucking jealous, sad because as they stand here, they are only friends, not lovers. It's what the world sees, knows. Friends. Only… friends…

The girl leaves and John's hand resumes its place on the small of his back. There is a frown on the other man's face, he can see it from the corner of his eye and because he knows that he's being silly here with his baseless jealousy, he pulls up a smile as he continues his way to the car. John follows silently. For now.

It's in the car when John takes Randy's hand, entwining their fingers and locking gazes with him, he lifts it to his mouth and plants a kiss on the back of his hand. It's dark, no one is around. It's safe. No one can see them…

"What's wrong, Ran?" John asks quietly, tilting his head a bit to the side as he obviously searches for a hint.

Again Randy smiles at him and shakes his head no.

"It's just…" he begins, but trails off immediately. It's not the right moment, not the right place and so he replies: "I'm hungry and tired. Don't worry, babe."

John doesn't buy it. It's not the frown that comes back to his lover's face that tells Randy that, it's those two oh so very fine lines which appear around John's lips, barely visible but there.

"Johnny, don't look at me like that," he sighs. "Really, no need to worry, okay? I need something to eat and you holding me until I fall asleep."

His hand is lifted again and another kiss finds a place on its back, before John's other hand settles on Randy's nape to pull him in. Forehead is rested against forehead.

"I can do that," John murmurs and finally there is a small smile on his lips. "I love you, Ran."

"And I love you, babe," Randy whispers, telling himself over and over again that he has promised not to push John, to be strong for both of them until his babe is strong enough to tell the world the truth.

Later that night he lies pressed against John, completely wrapped up in his arms, his scent, his warmth while he listens to the sounds of soft breathing. The peaceful expression of the other man is slightly illuminated by the soft light which is falling through the window. With a silent sigh he nuzzles his face against the broad chest. At night everything is alright. All his worries are far away and he knows that the day will come when they won't have to hide any longer. He knows it because John has promised it.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve and they will spend the night with John's family, like they have done the last year. And just like the last year Randy has a New Year's resolution. One that he will hold close to his heart until he doesn't need it anymore.

He'll wait for John to be strong enough, no matter how long it'll take. Because John has promised it… and John _always_ keeps his promises...

* * *

**… courage …**

Sitting on the couch, John is nursing a meanwhile warm beer while his eyes are fixed on the scene in the kitchen. They have arrived this noon at his parent's house and his mom occupied Randy immediately, saying that she needs help with the dinner and stuff and ever since he and Darlando have been busy little bees, flying around his mom. The dinner was eaten, yet Randy was still the busy bee, preparing late night snacks and drinks with his mom and Darlando. Sadly there hasn't been a chance for a kiss since they have left their room and bumping knees under the table has been the closest contact, but Rady is glowing with happiness and it warms John's heart.

Too often he has seen this beautiful creature sad, eyes filled with sorrow… always when Randy thought John wouldn't see. But he _sees_. Every time. And he knows it's his fault, because he still doesn't have the guts to stand up for _them_. Even now, after more than a year. And all the time Randy waits, without a word, without pushing him.

This man is too wonderful to be true. And he deserves better. It's what John tells himself every fucking day.

Yesterday, after the show when the girl came over to ask him out for a drink… he has seen the expression on Randy's face, and how his fingers felt the tags under his shirt. And when they came home it seemed like Randy wanted to crawl under his skin, clinging to him as if he was afraid that he could suddenly be gone.

And… a few days ago he has seen him sitting on their bed with a small box on his knees and the ribbon he had tied around Randy's neck back at that Christmas Eve in his hand. The fact alone that Randy has kept it had been enough to leave him breathless for a second, but then the expression on Randy's face changed and he was gazing at the little thing with such a sadness that it almost ripped John's heart out.

Randy has moved in after that Christmas Eve and no one cared. A bachelor flatshare, that's what it is for all those people around them. No one cares at all that they spend so much time together, that they cling to the other, share food and even when Randy comes to the company wearing one of John's shirt for example, still no one cares. They act like a couple would do, only without kisses. _No one, not a single soul, cares._

And still John is scared.

They live a wonderful life, _their_ life, and they are so very happy together. Yet they are not… not completely, not as happy as they could be. Sometimes he wonders why Randy puts up with all the holding back, the being kept down. And he fears that one morning Randy might wake up, sick of waiting for him and… leave…

"Hey, big brother," a voice says behind him.

"Hey," he murmures, his eyes never leaving Randy.

His brother Steve sits down beside him, waving a hand right in front if his face. Blinking slowly John finally wrenches his eyes away from the man he loves and looks over to his grinning brother, but that grin drops the very second their eyes meet.

"What's wrong, John?"

_Everything, _John thinks and brushes a hand down his face.

"Did you and Randy have a fight?"

"What?" John asks and looks back to the man beside him. "Uhm, no. No, we didn't have a fight."

"Oh, okay, good. For a moment I was worried. You know, it's funny, you have so many friend but Randy… Well, he's special. Mom has already adopted him," Steve chuckles softly as he gazes over to Randy. "The whole family has."

_You have no idea how special he is_, John thinks and bites his tonuge to keep his thoughts unvoiced.

And then he heaves a heavy sigh in his mind. He knows by the look on his brothers face that this isn't over yet and no matter how much he loves his brother, right now he wishes he could tell him to keep his nose out of other peoples business.

Steve's eyes roam his face for a moment, followed by a slight nod and a murmured: "I can see that you're not okay, so what is it?"

This is is brother. His _gay_ brother who knows about the fear of standing up for who he is, who has fought for the man he loves and who lives a happy life with his boyfriend now, without hiding from the world, because he had the courage to come out of the closet. And he's probably the only person right now he can talk to about his… about Randy and him… and it's fucking tempting. To finally take a first step closer to what he has promised Randy…

"I'm not sure if…" he begins quietly but he falls silent again. Fuck, this is his brother and he shouldn't be afraid to tell him about it but… he can't… and so he sits there, wills himself not to glance over to the love of his life as he continues: "There is someone and I… love them. But we can't be together. Not the way we want to. I know it hurts them and it fucking hurts me, but I don't know what to do…"

Averting his gaze he laces his fingers together to stop a sudden, light trembling of his hands.

_Coward. I am… a goddamn, miserable coward…_

"Funny," Steve says slowly and something about the way this single word is spoken gives John a queasy feeling and although he doesn't want to, his eyes snap back up to his brother's. "Randy told me almost the same thing about half an hour ago…"

The miserable, crooked grin John wills on his lips is a poor attempt to keep appearances up and while a part of him hopes, really hopes that Steve buys it, another part of him hopes that he doesn't. The other man's face gives nothing away though. There is only that I-am-worried-about-my-brother expression.

"Well, maybe because we're both WWE Superstars and have the same problems with relationships," he mutters then, daring a glance over to Randy who looks at them the same moment, giving him that soft smile that makes his heart jump happily. "The world looks at us, at what we do and who we are with. It can destroy everything…"

"But you love them," Steve cuts in and it's not a question.

John huffs, groans quietly and he can't help the guilty note on is voice as he replies: "Yeah. It's the love of my life kind of thing…"

He never sees the hand coming which gives him a smack against the back of his head. Cursing he ducks away, glaring at Steve.

"Are you telling me your job is more important to you than being with the love of your life?!"

"Steve…" he sighs and cradles his head in his hands. "It's complicated."

"How complicated can it be? We're talking about love and the only complication here is you. You don't get many chances on being with _the_ _one_ person. You worked hard, for years and you have more than enough money to live carefree for the rest of your life. I know this job is your life but if you walk away from your love now, then you're gonna regret it forever. Fuck your job, the day will come when you retire and then? Nothing. Don't you think being with the one you love is worth the risk of having to quit a few years sooner? You are not alone, John. You have us and you have Randy. We have your back."

The words sting. It's not that he does not know all this, he _knows_ and he also knows Steve is right. A hand settles on his shoulder and squeezes it lightly.

"Do the right thing, John, before it's too late."

With that Steve gets up, walks over to his mom, Darlando and Randy who is busy with sparkling wine, leaving him alone with himself. He watches as Steve smacks Randy on his bottom as he walks past him, kisses his mom on the temple and steals a thorough kiss from his boyfriend. And the world keeps on turning. Here, no one cares. The rest of his family comes in and his dad announces that the fireworks are ready.

He watches as everyone helps himself to a glass of sparkling wine, as his mom pats Randy's cheek, saying something John can't understand but it makes Randy smile brightly. He watches as his dad walks over Randy, lays a hand on his shoulder and whatever it is _he_ says, it ends with _son_ and if possible Randy's smile brightens. He sits there and watches a bunch of happy, laughing people… his family and right now it seems that nothing, _nothing_ could destroy that happy portrait of a loving, perfect family.

There is a warm feeling in his chest and he almost laughs out loud as he realizes it is relief.

Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until the next year arrives. John gets up and joins the cheerful group as they make their way out of the house. The night is crisp and clear and the neigborhood alive with laughing people and the cool air hits him like a splash of cold water, clears his head but the warmth in his chest is still there and the contrast to the chilliness out here sends a shiver through him.

Sipping at his sparkling wine, he watches the first fireworks go off to soon, hears people bitch about other people spoiling New Year's Eve by being so impatient. The same thing every year. There is his father with his mom on his heels as he rearranges the fireworks and she's most likely telling him for the umpteenth time to be careful.

A faint wave of the most addictive scent in the world fills his nostrils, telling him that Randy is there before he feels his warm presence at his side and his lips spread to a happy smile as a companionate arm sneaks around his shoulders, pulls him against the warmth.

"You okay, babe?" Randy mumurs just loud enough for John to hear.

John nods and looks up to the man who means the world to him. Two minutes, he hears someone say.

"I'm okay," he says softly, pressing closer to him. "Ran… do you think it has been a good year?"

Randy's thumb begins an innocent back and forth on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it has been good. Very good," Randy replies as softly. "You _made_ it good, Johnny."

Those precious grey orbs tell him that Randy wants nothing more this very moment than to kiss him and the fleeting expression which darkens them for the briefest of moments speaks of how sad he is that he can't just do it, lean in and steal that kiss. And John has no word for how much he wishes they could just be as free as Steve and Darlando… or how he feels to see his love so sad.

"You've never been a good liar," he whispers but Randy shakes his head slightly no.

One minute.

"Johnny, I love you and you love me," Randy says and shifts to face him. "That is what counts and there is nothing more important in this world. _You_ make my life perfect, babe."

John has to look away because the love which is sparkling in Randy's eyes now is overwhelming and a small and dark part of him tells him that he doesn't deserve it. His gaze sweeps over his family, stops at his brothers and Darlando, laughing, carefree, at his mother who watches Randy and him with a motherly benevolence which makes him wonder if she already _knows_.

His eyes lock with Randy's again and that overwhelming love is still there, piercing deep into his soul… filling it. Like so often. _Like always_. Banishing all his sorrows, the fear… freeing the same breathtaking love in his heart, the one he has to hide away when they are not alone.

And everday he hopes that it won't die because it can't _live_.

_Do the right thing, John, before it's too late._

It shouldn't be that hard. They are not hurting anyone with being in love with each other. It's just _love_.

_The only complication here is you._

For a second he closes his eyes, lets his heart take over. Hesitantly he reaches for Randy's glass, putting it and his own aside.

_10…_

"John?" Randy murmurs confused as John pulls the dog-tags over his own head, weighing them in his hand before blue seeks grey again.

_8…_

"You are my life, Ran," he whispers, slipping the chain over Randy's head.

_6…_

"Johnny, your family…" Randy breathes, eyes wide but it is like it always is, there is no fear of being caught in them, only love and… maybe a glint of hope.

But John hushes him, settles a hand over the tags on the other man's chest and under his touch he feels a strong, fast heartbeat, matching his own running heart.

_4…_

Randy's hand comes up to cover the one on his chest and it feels right, it feels so very, very right as they stand there like this, not caring if anyone sees it.

_2…_

"I'm sorry that it took me so long," John says and the words are coated with the guilt he feels for causing Randy so much sorrow, for leaving him waiting… again.

_1…_

As he steps up close he can feel Randy's breath hitch and he sees as those perfect lips form a silent _but_…

He kisses him. It's a simple kiss but a real one. A kiss that leaves no doubts what they are and he can feel Randy smile into the kiss and he's sure he hears a tiny sob. His arm wraps around the slim waist to pull him closer while Randy's arms come up around his neck, holding onto him for dear life.

The world around them explodes in a colorful sparkling and happy cheers as the New Year arrives, illuminating them and the truth.

The kiss ends eventually, fading off in tiny pecks. John finds a glistening wetness on Randy's cheek as he pulls back a bit and whispering his love's name he gently thumbs it away. It steals his breath, the happiness he finds on Randy's face and to his own surprise the biting fear within him is gone. What is left is a glowing lightness, because the hiding has found an end.

"I love you, Ran," he says loud enough for the people around them to hear. "And I don't give a shit about what the world thinks about it."

And really, he doesn't.

"And I love you, babe," Randy replies a bit shakily, a bit confused as if he can't really believe what John has just done.

A touch on his arm says that it is time to face the reactions around them. It's his mother. She looks up to him with tears in her eyes and a touched smile on her lips as she takes his and Randy's hand into hers. And there is Steve with Darlando in his arms, nodding at him and John realizes that he has known it all along. His father looks at him with a cocked eyebrow but the expression on his face and the faces of his other brothers tells him that it is good the way it is.

And the world keeps on turning.

The weight which is lifted from him frees a small laughter of utter relief that has been caught in his chest for much too long, waiting to finally be released and it breaks through. Randy pulls him against his chest and breathes a kiss to his temple, lets him hide his face against his neck as the laughter becomes stifled sobs, as tears of joy spill from his eyes. Soothing words wash over him, wrapped in that low rumble he loves so much. He feels his mother squeeze his hand.

It is… good.

The New Year has just started and it is already so much better than the last one. Because they are free now. Because they can be who they really are.

And he knows with his family having his back and with Randy at his side there's nothing he has to fear…


End file.
